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HARPER’S  CLASSICAL  LIBRARY. 


CICERO’S 

THREE  BOOKS  OF  OFFICES 


AND  OTHER  MORAL  WORES. 


CICERO’S 


THEEE  BOOKS  OF  OFFICES, 

OR  MORAL  DUTIES; 

ALSO  HIS 


CATO  MAJOR,  AN  ESSAY  ON  OLD  AGE;  LiELIUS,  AN  ESSAY 
ON  FRIENDSHIP;  PARADOXES;  SCIPIO’S  DREAM; 

AND  LETTER  TO  QUINTUS  ON  THE 
DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


WITH  KOTES,  DESIGNED  TO  EXHIBIT  A COMPAHATIVE  VIETir  OF  THE  OPINIONS 
OF  CIOERO,  AND  THOSE  OF  MODEEN  MORALISTS  AND  ETHICAL 
PHILOSOPHERS. 


By  CYRUS  R.  EDMONDS. 


NEW  YORK: 

HARPER  & BROTHERS, 

329  & 331  PEAEL  STEEET. 

1871. 


> 


Harper’s  New  Classical  Lilnrary. 


Comprising  Literal  Translations  of 


OJESAR. 

VIRGIL. 

HORACE. 

SALLUST. 

CICERO’S  ORATIONS. 
CICERO’S  OFFICES,  &c. 
CICERO  ON  ORATORY,  <&e. 
TAOITU’S.  2 vols. 
‘TERENCE. 


JUVENAL. 

XENOPHON. 

HOMER’S  ILIAD. 

HOMER’S  ODYSSEY,  &c. 

THUCYDIDES. 

HERODOTUS. 

EURIPIDES.  2 2ols. 

SOPHOCLES. 

JESCHYLUS. 


DEMOSTHENES.  2 vols. 


12mo,  Muslin,  Si  50  a Volume. 


.8"// 

c.7.3'. 

M 


PEEP  ACE. 


The  present  volume  comprises  the  most  popular  moral  treatises 
of  Cicero.  In  preparing  an  edition  adapted  to  the  wants  of  the 
student,  the  editor  has  addressed  himself  to  two  principal  objects. 
The  first,  to  produce  a close  and  faithful  translation,  avoiding  on 
the  one  hand,  the  freedom  of  Melmoth’s  elegant  paraphrase,  and 
on  the  other,  the  crudeness  and  inaccuracy  of  the  so-called  literal 
translation  of  Cockman ; the  second,  to  present  the  opinions  of 
modern  moralists,  chiefiy  of  our  own  country,  in  juxtaposition 
with  those  of  Cicero,  that  the  reader  may  he  enabled  to  estimate 
the  changes  which  have  passed  over  the  human  mind  in  relation 
to  these  subjects,  and  perceive  how  far  these  changes  have  been 
occasioned  by  the  promulgation  of  the  Christian  religion. 

A subsidiary  design  has  been  to  show,  by  parallel  passages,  to 
what  extent  the  writings  of  modern  moralists  have  been  tinctured 
with  the  thoughts  of  the  Koman  philosopher ; and  to  point  out 
particular  instances  in  which  their  arguments  and  illustrations  are 
identical. 

In  briefly  sketching  the  subjects  of  the  following  treatises,  we 
shall  for  the  most  part  adopt  the  observations  of  Dunlop,  in  his 

History  of  Roman  Literature.”  The  first,  and  most  important 
treatise,  is 

The  Offices,  or  three  books  of  “ Moral  Duties.”  Of  these  the 
first  two  are  supposed  to  be  chiefly  derived  from  a lost  work  of 
Fansstius,  a Greek  philosopher,  who  resided  at  Rome  in  the  second 
century  before  Christ.  In  the  first  book  he  treats  of  what  is 
virtuous  in  itself,  and  shows  in  what  manner  our  duties  are 


'^''7 


VI 


PREFACE. 


founded  in  morality  and  virtue,  in  the  right  perception  of  truth, 
justice,  fortitude,  and  decorum,  which  four  qualities  are  referred 
to  as  the  constituent  parts  of  virtue,  and  the  sources  from  which 
all  our  duties  are  derived.  In  the  second  book,  the  author  en- 
larges on  those  duties  which  relates  to  utility,  the  improvement 
of  life,  and  the  means  of  attaining  wealth  and  power.  This  divi- 
sion of  the  work  relates  principally  to  political  advancement,  and 
the  honorable  means  of  gaining  popularity,  among  which  are 
enumerated  generosity,  courtesy,  and  eloquence.  Thus  far  Cicero 
had,  in  all  probability,  closely  followed  the  steps  of  Panes  tins. 
Garve,  in  his  commentary  on  Moral  Duties,  remarks  that,  when 
Cicero  comes  to  the  more  subtle  and  philosophic  parts  of  his  sub- 
ject, he  evidently  translates  from  the  Greek,  and  that  he  has  not 
always  found  words  in  his  own  language  to  express  the  nicer  dis- 
tinctions of  the  Greek  schools.  The  work  of  Panaetius,  however, 
was  left  imperfect,  and  did  not  comprise  the  third  part  of  the 
subject,  namely,  the  choice  and  distinction  to  be  made  when 
virtue  and  utility  were  opposed  to  each  other.  On  this  topic,  ac- 
cordingly, Cicero,  in  the  third  book,  was  left  to  his  own  resources ; 
the  discussion,  of  course,  relates  only  to  the  subordinate  duties,  as 
the  true  and  undoubted  honestum  can  never  be  put  in  competition 
with  private  advantage,  or  be  violated  for  its  sake.  As  to  the 
minor  duties  the  great  maxim  inculcated  is,  that  nothing  should 
be  accounted  useful  or  profitable  but  what  is  strictly  virtuous ; 
and  that,  in  fact,  there  ought  to  be  no  separation  of  the  principles 
of  virtue  and  utility.  Cicero  enters  into  some  discussion  how- 
ever, and  lays  down  certain  rules  to  enable  us  to  form  a just 
estimate  of  both  in  cases  of  doubt,  where  seeming  utility  comes 
into  competition  with  virtue. 

The  author  has  addressed  the  work  to  his  son,  and  has  repre- 
sented it  as  written  for  his  instruction.  “It  is,”  says  Kelsall, 
“ the  noblest  present  ever  made  by  a parent  to  a child.”  Cicerc 
declares  that  he  intended  to  treat  in  it  of  all  the  duties,  but  it  is 
generally  considered  to  have  been  chiefly  drawn  up  as  a manual 
of  political  morality,  and  as  a guide  to  young  Romans  of  his  son’s 
age  and  rank,  which  might  enable  them  to  attain  political  emi- 
nence, and  tread  with  innocence  and  safety  “ the  slippery  steeps 
of  power  ’ 


PREFACE. 


vi'i 


The  Dialogue  on  Feiendshif  is  addressed  with  peculiar  pro- 
priety to  Atticus,  who,  as  Cicero  tells  him  in  his  dedication,  can 
not  fail  to  discover  his  own  portrait  in  the  delineation  of  a perfect 
friend.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  Cicero  has  most  judiciously  selected 
tlie  persons  of  the  dialogue.  They  were  men  of  eminence  in  the 
state,  and,  though  deceased,  the  Romans  had  such  veneration  for 
their  ancestors,  that  they  would  listen  with  tlie  utmost  interest 
even  to  the' imaginary  conversation  of  a Scsavola  or  a Laelius. 
The  memorable  and  hereditary  friendship  which  subsisted  between 
Laelius  and  the  younger  Scipio  Africanus,  rendered  the  former  a 
suitable  example.  To  support  a conversation  on  this  delightful 
topic,  Fannius  the  historian,  and  Mucins  Scsevola  the  augur,  both 
sons-in-law  of  Laelius,  are  supposed  to  pay  a visit  to  their  father 
immediately  after  the  sudden  and  suspicious  death  of  Scipio 
Africanus.  The  recent  loss  whicli  Laelius  had  thus  sustained, 
leads  to  an  eulogy  on  the  inimitable  virtues  of  the  departed  hero, 
and  to  a discussion  on  the  true  nature  of  that  tie  by  which  they 
had  been  so  long  connected.  Cicero,  in  early  youth,  had  been 
introduced  by  his  father  to  Mucius  Scaevola,  and,  among  other  in- 
teresting conversations  which  he  thus  enjoyed  an  opportunity  of 
hearing,  he  was  one  day  present  while  Scaevola  related  the  sub- 
stance of  the  conference  on  Friendship,  which  he  and  Fannius 
had  held  with  Laelius  a few  days  after  the  death  of  Scipio.  Many 
of  the  ideas  and  sentiments  which  Laelius  uttered  are  declared  by 
Scaevola  to  have  originally  flowed  from  Scipio,  with  whom  the 
nature  and  laws  of  friendship  formed  a favorite  topic  This,  per- 
haps, is  not  entirely  a Action,  or  merely  asserted  to  give  the  stamp 
of  authenticity  to  the  dialogue. 

The  Teeatise  on  Old  Age  is  not  properly  a dialogue,  but  a 
continued  discourse  delivered  by  Cato  the  censor  at  the  request  of 
Scipio  and  Laelius.  It  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  interesting 
])ieces  of  the  kind  which  have  descended  to  us  from  antiquity ; 
and  no  reader  can  wonder  that  the  pleasure  experienced  in  its 
composition,  not  only,  as  he  says,  made  him  forget  the  infirmities 
of  old  age,  but  even  rendered  that  portion  of  existence  agreeable. 
In  consequence  of  the  years  to  which  Cicero  had  attained  at  tlie 
time  of  its  composition,  and  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was 
then  placed,  it  must  indeed  have  been  composed  with  peculiar 


viii 


PBEFACE. 


interest  and  feeling.  It  was  written  by  him  when  he  was  sixt  j-three, 
and  is  addressed  to  his  friend  Atticus  (who  had  nearly  reached  the 
same  age),  with  a view  of  rendering  their  accumulating  burdens 
as  light  as  possible.  In  order  to  give  his  precepts  the  greater 
force,  he  represents  them  as  delivered  by  the  elder  Cato,  in  the 
eighty-fourth  year  of  a vigorous  and  useful  old  age,  on  the  occa- 
sion of  Lsslius  and  the  younger  Scipio  expressing  their  admiration 
at  the  wonderful  ease  with  which  he  still  bore  the  weight  of 
years.  This  affords  the  author  an  opportunity  of  entering  into  a 
full  explanation  of  his  ideas  on  the  subject,  his  great  object  being 
to  show  that  by  internal  resources  of  happiness  the  closing  period 
may  be  rendered  not  only  supportable  but  comfortable.  He  enu- 
merates those  causes  which  are  commonly  supposed  to  constitute 
the  infelicity  of  advanced  age  under  four  general  heads : that  it 
incapacitates  from  mingling  in  the  affairs  of  the  world ; that  it 
produces  infirmities  of  the  body  * that  it  disqualifies  for  the  en- 
loyment  of  sensual  gratifications ; and  that  it  brings  us  to  the 
verge  of  death.  Some  of  these  disadvantages  he  maintains  are 
imaginary,  and  for  any  real  pleasures  of  which  old  men  are  de- 
prived, he  shows  that  many  others  more  refined  and  elevated  may 
be  substituted.  The  whole  work  is  agreeably  diversified,  and 
illustrated  by  examples. 

The  Paradoxes  contain  a defense  of  six  peculiar  opinions  or 
paradoxes  of  the  Stoics,  something  in  the  manner  of  those  which 
Cato  was  wont  to  promulgate  in  the  senate.  These  are,  that  what 
is  morally  right  Qionestum)  is  alone  good ; that  the  virtuous  can 
want  nothing  for  complete  happiness ; that  there  are  no  degrees 
either  in  crimes  or  good  actions  ; that  every  fool  is  mad  ; that  the 
wise  alone  are  wealthy  and  free ; and  that  every  fool  is  a slave. 
The  Paradoxes,  indeed,  seem  to  have  been  written  as  an  exercise 
of  rhetorical  wit,  rather  than  as  a serious  disquisition  in  philoso- 
phy, and  each  is  personally  applied  to  some  individual. 

The  narrative,  entitled  Scipio’s  Dream  is  put  into  the  mouth 
of  the  younger  Scipio  Africanus,  who  relates  that,  in  his  youth, 
when  he  first  served  in  Africa,  he  visited  the  court  of  Massinissa, 
the  steady  friend  of  the  Komans,  and  particularly  of  the  Corne- 
lian family.  During  the  feasts  and  entertainments  of  the  day,  the 
conversation  turned  on  the  words  and  actions  of  the  first  great 


PEEFACE. 


IX 


Scipio.  His  adopted  son  having  retired  to  rest,  the  shade  of  the 
departed  hero  appeared  to  him  in  a vision,  and  darkly  foretelling 
the  future  events  of  his  life,  encouraged  him  to  tread  in  the  paths 
of  patriotism  and  true  glory ; announcing  the  reward  provided  in 
heaven  for  those  who  have  deserved  well  of  their  country. 

The  circumstances  of  time  and  place  selected  for  this  dream,  as 
well  as  the  characters  introduced,  have  been  most  felicitously 
chosen ; and  Cicero  has  nowhere  more  happily  united  sublimity 
of  thought  with  brilliant  imagination. 

The  letter,  Oir  the  Duties  of  a Magistrate,  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  of  the  kind  that  has  ever  been  penned.  It  was  ad- 
dressed by  Cicero  to  his  brother  Quintus,  on  the  occasion  of  his 
government  in  Asia  being  prolonged  to  a third  year.  Availing 
himself  of  the  rights  of  an  elder  brother,  as  well  as  of  the 
authority  derived  from  his  superior  dignity  and  talents,  Cicero 
counsels  and  exhorts  him  concerning  the  due  administration  of  his 
province,  particularly  with  regard  to  the  choice  of  his  subordinate 
officers,  and  the  degree  of  trust  to  be  reposed  in  them.  He 
earnestly  reproves  him,  but  with  much  fraternal  tenderness  and 
affection,  for  his  irritability  of  temper ; and  concludes  with  a beau- 
tiful exhortation  to  strive  in  all  respects  to  merit  the  praise  of  his 
cotempovaries,  and  bequeath  to  posterity  an  unsullied  name. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Preface v 

Offices,  or  Moral  Duties,  Book  1 1 

Offices,  or  Moral  Duties,  Book  II 77 

Offices,  or  Moral  Duties,  Book  III 115 

LiELius,  AN  Essay  on  Friendship 169 

Cato  Major,  an  Essay  on  Old  Age 216 

Paradoxes 26:i 

SciPio’s  Dream 288 

Letter  to  Quintus  on  the  Duties  of  a Magistrate  . .306 

Index 


329 


CICEKO  DE  OFFICIIS: 


A 

TREATISE  CONCERNING  THE  MORAL  DUTIES  OF  MANKIND. 


BOOK  I. 

My  Son  Marcus, 

I.  Although,  as  you  liavo  for  a year  been  studying  under 
Cratippus,  and  that,  too,  at  Athens,  you  ought  to  be- well  fur- 
nished with  the  rules  and  principles  of  philosophy,  on  account 
of  the  pre-eminent  reputation  both  of  the  master  and  the  city, 
the  one  of  which  can  improve  you  by  his  learning,  the  other 
by  its  examples  ; yet  as  I,  for  my  own  advantage,  have  always 
combined  the  Latin  with  the  Greek,  not  only  in  philosophy  but 
even  in  the  practice  of  speaking,  I recommend  to  you  the  same 
method,  that  you  may  excel  equally  in  both  kinds  of  compo- 
sition. In  this  respect,  indeed,  if  I mistake  not,  I was  of  great 
S3rvice  to  our  countrymen  ; so  that  not  only  such  of  them  as 
are  ignorant  of  Greek  learning,  but  even  men  of  letters,  think 
they  have  profited  somewhat  by  me  both  in  speaking  and  rea- 
soning. 

Wherefore  you  shall  study,  nay,  study  as  long  as  you 
desire,  under  the  best  philosopher  of  this  age — and  you 
ought  to  desire  it,  as  long  as  you  are  not  dissatisfied  with 
the  degree  of  your  improvement ; but  in  reading  my  works, 
which  are  not  very  different  from  the  Peripatetic — because 
we  profess  in  common  to  be  followers  both  of  Socrates  and 
Plato — as  to  the  subject-matter  itself,  use  your  own  judg- 
ment; but  be  assured  you  will,  by  reading  my  writings, 
render  your  Latin  style  more  copious.  I would  not  have  it 
supposed  that  this  is  said  in  ostentation ; for,  while  I yield 
the  superiority  in  philosophy  to  many,  if  I claim  to  myself 
the  province  peculiar  to  an  orator — that  of  speaking  with  pro- 

1 


2 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


prietj,  perspicuity,  and  elegance — I seem,  since  I have  spent 
my  life  in  that  pursuit,  to  lay  claim  to  it  with  a certain  degree 
of  right. 

Wherefore,  my  dear  Cicero,  I most  earnestly  recommend 
that  you  carefully  peruse  not  only  my  Orations,  but  even  my 
philosophical  works,  which  have  now  nearly  equaled  them  in 
extent ; for  there  is  in  the  former  the  greater  force  of  lan- 
guage, but  you  ought  to  cultivate,  at  the  same  time,  the  equa- 
ble and  sober  style  of  the  latter.  And,  indeed,  I find,  that  it 
has  not  happened  in  the  case  of  any  of  the  Greeks,  that  the 
same  man  has  labored  in  both  departments,  and  pursued  both 
the  former — that  of  forensic  speaking — and  the  latter  quiet 
mode  of  argumentation ; unless,  perhaps,  Demetrius  Phalereus 
may  be  reckoned  in  that  number — a refined  reasoner,  a not 
very  animated  speaker,  yet  of  so  much  sweetness,  that  you 
might  recognize  the  pupil  of  Theophrastus.  How  far  I have 
succeeded  in  both,  others  must  determine ; certain  it  is 
that  I have  attempted  both.  Indeed,  I am  of  opinion  that 
Plato,  had  he  attempted  forensic  oratory,  would  have  spoken 
with  copiousness  and  power ; and  that  had  Demosthenes 
retained  and  repeated  the  lessons  of  Plato,  he  v^ould  have  de- 
livered them  with  gracefulness  and  beauty.  I form  the  same 
judgment  of  Aristotle  and  Isocrates,  each  of  whom  was  so 
with  his  own  pursuit  that  he  neglected  that  of  the 

II.  But  having  resolved  at  this  time  to  write  to  you  some- 
what,  and  a great  deal  in  time  to  come,  I have  thought  proper 
to  set  out  with  that  subject  which  is  best  adapted  to  your 
years  and  to  my  authority.  For,  while  many  subjects  in  phi- 
losophy, of  great  weight  and  utility,  have  been  accurately  and 
copiously  discussed  by  philosophers,  the  most  extensive  seems 
to  be  what  they  have  delivered  and  enjoined  concerning  the 
duties  of  mankind ; for  there  can  be  no  state  of  life,  amid 
public  or  private  affairs,  abroad  or  at  home — whether  you 
transact  any  thing  with  yourself  or  contract  any  thing  with 
another — that  is  without  its  obligations.  In  the  due  discharge 
of  that  consists  all  the  dignity,  and  in  its  neglect  all  the  dis- 
grace, of  life. 

This  is  an  inquiry  common  to  all  philosophers ; for  where 
is  the  man  who  will  presume  to  style  himself  a philosopher, 
and  lay  down  no  rules  of  duty?  But  there  are  certain 


pleased 

other. 


CHAP.  II. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


3 


schools  which  pervert  all  duty  by  the  ultimate  objects  of 
good  and  evil  which  they  propose.  For  if  a man  should 
lay  down  as  the  chief  good  that  which  has  no  connection 
with  virtue,  and  measure  it  by  his  own  interests,  and  not 
according  to  its  moral  merit ; if  such  a man  shall  act  consist- 
ently with  his  own  principles,  and  is  not  sometimes  influenced 
by  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  he  can  cultivate  neither  friendship, 
justice,  nor  generosity.  In  truth,  it  is  impossible  for  the  man 
to  be  brave  who  shall  pronounce  pain  to  be  the  greatest  evil, 
or  temperate  who  shall  propose  pleasure  as  the  highest  good.' 

1 Cicero  thus  enters  briefly  but  definitely  into  the  most  vexed,  and  yet 
the  most  fundamental,  question  of  ethics : What  is  that  which  constitutes 
human  conduct  morally  right  or  wrong  ? In  doing  so,  he  plainly  avows 
his  own  conviction  that  this  great  distinction  is  not  dependent  upon  the 
mere  expediency  or  inexpediency  of  the  supposed  conduct.  The  many 
eminent  moral  philosophers  of  modern  times,  and  especially  of  our  own 
country,  may  be  comprehensively  divided  into  the  two  classes  of  those 
who  maintain,  and  those  who  oppose,  the  principle  thus  enunciated  by 
Cicero.  A very  condensed  view  of  the  leading  philosophers  of  these 
schools  will  not  be  uninstructive. 

The  most  celebrated  of  the  earlier  opponents  of  the  principle  laid  down 
by  Cicero  was  Hobbes,  of  Malmesbury,  who  flourished  in  the  iHh  cen- 
tury. His  system  takes  no  account  of  moral  emotions  whatever.  He 
makes  pure  selfishness  the  motive  and  end  of  all  moral  actions,  and 
makes  religion  and  morals  alike  to  consist  in  passive  conformity  to  the 
dogmas  and  laws  of  the  reigning  sovereign. 

Perhaps  the  best  reply  to  this  latter  notion  was  given  by  Cicero  him- 
self, in  his  treatise,  “De  Legibus:” — “The  impulse,”  he  says,  “which 
directs  to  right  conduct,  and  deters  from  crime,  is  not  only  older  than 
the  ages  of  nations  and  cities,  but  coeval  with  that  Divine  Being  who 
sees  and  rules  both  heaven  and  earth.  Hor  did  Tarquin  less  violate  that 
eternal  law,  though  in  his  reign  there  might  have  been  no  written  law 
at  Rome  against  such  violence ; for  the  principle  that  impels  us  to  right 
conduct,  and  warns  us  against  guilt,  springs  out  of  the  nature  of  things. 
It  did  not  begin  to  be  law  when  it  was  first  written  but  when  it  origi- 
nated, and  it  is  coeval  with  the  Divine  Mind  itself.” 

The  most  noted  cotemporary  opponents  of  these  views  were  Cudworth 
and  Dr.  Clarke ; the  sum  of  whose  moral  doctrine  is  thus  stated  in  Mack- 
intosh’s “Progress  of  Ethical  Philosophy: — “Man  can  conceive  nothing 
without,  at  the  same  time,  conceiving  its  relation  to  other  things.  He 
must  ascribe  the  same  law  of  perception  to  every  being  to  whom  he  as- 
cribes thought.  He  cannot,  therefore,  doubt  that  all  the  relations  of  all 
things  to  all  must  have  always  been  present  to  the  Eternal  Mind.  The 
relations  in  this  sense  are  eternal,  however  recent  the  things  may  be  be- 
tween whom  they  subsist.  The  whole  of  these  relations  constitute  truth  ; 
the  knowledge  of  them  is  omniscience.  These  eternal  different  relations 
of  things  involve  a conseauent  eternal  fitness  or  unfitness  in  the  applica- 


4 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


Though  these  truths  are  so  self-evident  that  they  require 
no  philosophical  discussion,  yet  they  have  been  treated  by 
me  elsewhere.  I say,  therefore,  that  if  these  schools  are 

tion  of  things  one  to  another,  with  a regard  to  which  the  will  of  Ood 
always  chooses,  and  which  ought  likewise  to  determine  the  wills  of  all 
subordinate  rational  beings.  These  eternal  differences  make  it  fit  and 
reasonable  for  the  creatures  so  to  act ; they  cause  it  to  be  their  duty,  or 
lay  an  obligation  on  them  so  to  do,  separate  from  the  will  of  G-od,  and 
antecedent  to  any  prospect  of  advantage  or  reward.” 

This  system  professes  to  base  all  morals  upon  pure  reason,  as  applied 
to  the  fitness  of  things.  A single  passage  from  the  work  of  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  points  out  the  fallacy  it  involves.  “ The  murderer  who 
poisons  by  arsenic  acts  agreeably  to  his  knowledge  of  the  power  of  that 
substance  to  kill,  which  is  a relation  between  two  things  as  much  as 
the  physician  who  employs  an  emetic  after  the  poison,  acts  upon  his  be- 
lief of  the  tendency  of  that  remedy  to  preserve  life,  which  is  another  re- 
lation between  two  things.  All  men  who  seek  a good  or  bad  end  by 
good  or  bad  means,  must  alike  conform  their  conduct  to  some  relation 
between  their  actions  as  means,  and  their  object  as  an  end.  All  the  re- 
lations of  inanimate  things  to  each  other  are  undoubtedly  observed  as 
much  by  the  criminal  as  by  the  man  of  virtue.” 

Lord  Shaftesbury,  a little  later,  made  a considerable  advance  in  ethical 
philosophy,  by  placing  virtue  in  the  prevalence  of  love  for  the  system  of 
which  we  are  a part,  over  the  passions  pointing  to  our  individual  wel- 
fare; and  still  further,  by  admitting  an  intrinsic  power  in  all,  of  judging 
of  moral  actions  by  a moral  sense.  In  his  general  principles  Leibnitz,  to 
a great  extent,  concurs : though  the  latter  appears  to  have  lost  himself 
in  a refinement  of  the  selfish  system,  by  considering  the  pleasure  con- 
nected with  the  exercise  of  this  virtuous  benevolence  as  the  object  in 
the  view  of  the  benevolent  man. 

Malebranche  places  all  virtue  in  “ the  love”  of  the  universal  order,  as 
it  eternally  existed  in  the  Divine  reason,  where  every  created  reason 
contemplates  it 

The  metaphysician  of  America,  designated  by  Robert  Hall,  “ that  pro- 
digy of  metaphysical  acumen,”  Jonathan  Edwards,  places  moral  excel- 
lence in  the  love  to  being  (that  is,  sentient  being)  in  general.  This  good 
will  should  be  felt  toward  a particular  being — first,  in  proportion  to  his 
degree  of  existence  (“for,”  says  he,  “that  which  is  great  has  more  ex- 
istence, and  is  further  from  nothing,  than  that  which  is  little”) ; and,  sec- 
ondly, in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  that  particular  being  feels 
benevolence  to  others. 

With  the  18  th  century  arose  a far  higher  system  of  morals,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Butler.  He  makes  conscience  the  ruling 
moral  power  in  the  complex  constitution  of  man,  and  makes  its  dictates 
the  grand  criterion  of  moral  rightness  and  wrongness.  A few  of  his  own 
words  will  explain  the  essence  of  his  system.  “ Man,”  says  he,  “from 
his  make,  constitution,  or  nature,  is,  in  the  strictest  and  most  proper 
sense,  a law  to  himself ; he  hath  the  rule  of  right  within,  and  what  is 
wanting  is  that  he  honestly  attend  to  it.  Conscience  does  not  only  offer 


CHAP.  ir. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


5 


self-consistent,  they  can  say  nothing  of  the  moral  duties. 
Neither  can  any  firm,  permanent,  or  natural  rules  of  duty 
be  laid  down,  but  by  those  who  esteem  virtue  to  be  solely, 

itself  to  show  us  the  way  we  should  walk  in,  but  it  likewise  carries  its 
own  authority  with  it,  that  it  is  our  natural  guide — ^the  guide  assigned 
us  by  the  Author  of  our  nature.  It,  therefore,  belongs  to  our  condition 
of  being.  It  is  our  duty  to  walk  in  that  path,  and  to  follow  this  guide, 
without  looking  about  to  see  whether  we  may  not  possibly  forsake  them 
with  impunity.” — “ Butler’s  Sermons,”  Serm.  3. 

With  David  Hume,  who  was  cotemporary  with  Butler,  the  principle 
against  which  Cicero  protests  assumes  a systematic  character.  The  doctrine 
of  the  utility  of  actions,  as  that  which  constitutes  them  virtuous,  was  set 
forth  with  the  whole  force  of  his  genius  and  eloquence.  How  far  Dr.  Paley 
acquiesces  in  the  principles  of  Hume,  and  how  far,  on  the  other  hand,  ho 
may  seem  to  have  been  a disciple  of  Butler,  will  be  seen  by  two  brief  pass- 
ages in  his  “ Moral  and  Political  Philosophy.”  A comparison  of  the  two, 
and  especially  a consideration  of  his  attribution  of  an  abstract  moral  char- 
acter to  actions,  will  reveal  the  grand  defect  of  Paley’s  ethical  system.  The 
most  masterly  refutation  of  that  system  that  ever  appeared  is  to  be  found 
in  the  ethical  work  of  Jonathan  Dymond,  in  which  an  irrefragable  super- 
structure of  practical  morals  is  built,  chiefly  on  the  foundation  of  Dr.  Butler. 
The  former  of  the  passages  referred  to  is  as  follows: — “We  conclude  that 
Grod  wills  and  wishes  the  happiness  of  his  creatures ; and  this  conclusion 
being  once  established,  we  are  at  liberty  to  go  on  with  the  rule  built  upon 
it,  namely,  ‘ that  the  method  of  coming  at  the  will  of  God,  concerning  any 
action,  by  the  light  of  nature,  is  to  inquire  into  the  tendency  of  that  action 
to  promote  or  diminish  the  general  happiness.’  So,  then,  actions  are  to 
be  estimated  by  their  tendency.  Whatever  is  expedient  is  right.  It  is 
the  utility  of  any  moral  rule  alone  which  constitutes  the  obligation  of  it.” 
The  second  is  as  follows : — “ Actions,  in  the  abstract,  are  right  or  wrong 
according  to  their  tendency ; the  agency  is  virtuous  or  vicious  according 
to  his  design.'' — “ Paley’s  Moral  philosophy,”  book  1,  chaps.  5,  and  6. 

A still  later  philosopher,  Jeremy  Bentham,  however,  is  the  great  apos- 
tle of  the  principle  of  expediency  as  the  foundation  of  ethics.  His  theory, 
also,  as  the  basis  of  moral  obligation,  may  be  learned  by  two  character- 
istic passages : — “Nature  has  placed  mankind  under  the  government  of 
two  sovereign  masters,  pain  and  pleasure.  It  is  for  them  alone  to  point 
out  what  wo  ought  to  do,  as  well  as  to  determine  what  wo  shall  do. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  standard  of  right  and  wrong ; on  the  other,  the  chain 
of  causes  and  effects  are  fastened  to  their  throne.” — “ Bentham’s  Introd. 
of  Morals,”  vol.  1.  c.  1.  And  again ; — “ But  is  it  never  then,  from  any  other 
consideration  than  that  of  utility  that  we  derive  our  notions  of  right  and 
wrong?  I do  not  know;  I do  not  care.  Whether  moral  sentiment  can 
be  originally  conceived  from  any  other  sense  than  a view  of  utility,  is 
one  question : Whether,  upon  examination  and  reflection,  it  can,  in  point 
of  fact,  be  persisted  in  and  justified  on  any  other  ground,  by  a person  re- 
flecting within,  is  another.  Both  are  questions  of  speculation ; it  mat- 
ters not,  comparatively,  how  they  are  decided.” — Id.  vol.  1,  c.  2. 

In  conclusion,  the  two  most  enhghtened  philosophers  of  modern  times, 


6 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


or  by  those  who  deem  it  to  be  chiefly,  desirable  for  its  own 
sake.  The  teaching  of  duties,  therefore,  is  the  peculiar  study 
of  the  Stoics,  of  the  Academics,  and  the  Peripatetics ; because 
the  sentiments  of  Aristo,  Pyrrho,  and  Herillus,  have  been 
long  exploded.  Yet  even  those  professors  would  have  been 
entitled  to  have  treated  upon  the  duties  of  men,  had  they  left 
us  any  distinction  of  things,  so  that  there  might  have  been 
a path  open  to  the  discovery  of  duty.  We  shall,  therefore, 
upon  this  occasion,  and  in  this  inquiry,  chiefly  follow  the 
Stoics,  not  as  their  expositors,  but  by  drawing,  as  usual, 
from  their  sources,  at  our  own  option  and  judgment,  so  much 
and  in  such  manner  as  we  please.^  I therefore  think  proper, 
as  my  entire  argument  is  on  moral  obligation,  to  define  what  a 
duty  is,  a definition  which  I am  surprised  has  been  omitted 

Dugald  Stewart  and  Dr.  Thomas  Drown,  have  returned  to  the  principle 
thus  simply  laid  down  by  Cicero,  in  repudiation  of  the  Epicurian  theory, 
that  expediency,  or  its  tendency  to  produce  happiness,  is  the  moral  cri- 
terion of  actions,  and  have  supported  it  by  an  unexampled  array  of  pro- 
found and  ingenious  argument  and  eloquent  illustration.  A single  re- 
conciling principle  may  be  given  in  the  words  of  Dugald  Stewart : — “ An 
action  may  be  said  to  be  absolutely  right,  when  it  is  in  every  respect 
suitable  to  the  circumstances  in  which  the  agent  is  placed ; or,  in  other 
words,  when  it  is  such  as,  with  perfectly  good  intentions,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  an  enlightened  and  well-informed  understanding,  he  would  have 
performed.  An  action  may  be  said  to  be  relatively  right,  when  the  in- 
tentions of  the  agent  are  sincerely  good,  whether  his  conduct  be  suitable 
to  his  circumstances  or  not.  According  to  these  definitions,  an  action 
may  be  right  in  one  sense  and  wrong  in  another — an  ambiguity  in  lan- 
guage, which,  how  obvious  soever,  has  not  always  been  attended  to  by 
the  writers  on  morals.  It  is  the  relative  rectitude  of  an  action  which 
determines  the  moral  desert  of  the  agent ; but  it  is  its  absolute  rectitude 
which  determines  its  utility  to  his  worldly  interests  and  to  the  welfare 
of  society.  And  it  is  only  so  far  as  relative  and  absolute  rectitude  coin- 
cide, that  utility  can  bo  affirmed  to  bo  a quality  of  virtue.” — “ Outlines 
of  Moral  Philosophy,”  part  2,  sec.  6. 

A similar  truth  is  enunciated  by  Sir  Thomas  Brown,  in  his  “ Christian 
Morals,”  first  published  in  1716: — “Make  not  the  consequence  of  virtue 
the  ends  thereof.  Be  not  beneficent  for  a name  or  cymbal  of  applause, 
nor  exact  and  just  in  commerce  for  the  advantages  of  trust  and  credit, 
which  attend  the  reputation  of  true  and  punctual  dealing ; for  these  re- 
wards, though  unsought  for,  plain  virtue  will  bring  with  her.  To  have 
other  by-ends  in  good  actions  sours  laudable  performances,  which  must 
have  deeper  roots,  motives,  and  instigations,  to  give  them  the  stamp  of 
virtues.” — “Christian  Morals,”  part  1,  sec.  10. 

^ Cicero,  though  generally  adopting  the  principles  of  the  Stoics,  still 
professes  himself  an  Eclectic  philosopher,  culling  from  all  systems  what 


CHAP.  III. 


CICEKO’S  OFFICES. 


7 


by  Pansetius ; because  every  investigation  wbich  is  rationally 
undertaken,  concerning  any  subject,  ought  to  set  out  with  a 
definition,  that  it  may  be  understood  what  is  the  subject  of  dis^ 
cussion. 

III.  All  questions  concerning  duty  are  of  tw^o  sorts.  The 
first  relates  to  the  final  good ; the  second  consists  of  those 
rules  which  are  to  regulate  the  practice  of  life  in  all  its  rela- 
tions.^ Examples  of  the  former  are  as  follows  : — Whether 
all  duties  are  perfect  in  themselves  ? Whether  one  duty  is 
of  more  importance  than  another  1 together  with  other  ques- 
tions of  the  same  nature.  Now  the  rules  for  moral  duties 
relate,  indeed,  to  the  final  good ; but  it  is  not  so  perceptible 
that  they  do,  because  they  seem  chiefly  to  refer  to  the  regu- 
lation of  ordinary  life,  and  of  them  we  are  to  treat  in  this  book. 

But  there  is  another  division  of  duty : for  one  is  called  a 
mean  duty,  the  other  a perfect  duty.  If  I mistake  not,  the 
complete  or  perfect  duty  is  the  same  with  what  we  call  a 
direct  one,  and  by  the  Greeks  is  called  xaToodwua,  As  to 
that  duty  which  is  mean  they  call  it  and  they  thus 

define  those  terms.  Whatever  duty  is  absolute,  that  they 
call  a perfect  duty ; and  they  call  that  duty,  for  the  per- 

appeared  to  bear  most  distinctly  tho  stamp  of  truth,  but  not  submitting 
to  the  authority  of  any.  Horace  makes  a similar  profession  respecting 
himself — 

“Nullias  addictus  jurare  in  verbi  magistri, 

Quo  me  cumque  rapit  tempestas  deferor  hospes.” 

First.  Fpist. — First  Book,  lines  14,  15. 

“The  Roman  orator,”  says  Sir.  J.  Mackintosh,  “though  in  speculative 
questions  he  embraced  that  mitigated  doubt  which  allowed  most  ease 
and  freedom  to  his  genius,  yet  in  those  moral  wrirings  where  his  heart 
was  most  deeely  interested,  followed  the  severest  sect  of  philosophy, 
and  became  almost  a Stoic.” — “Progress  of  Ethical  Philosophy.” 

^ Cicero,  in  his  work  on  Moral  Ends  (De  Finibus),  briefly  defines 
ethics,  or  morality,  as  the  ars  vivendi,  or  doctrina  bene  vivendi ; that  is,  the 
art  of  living  wisely.  The  terms  ethics  is  derived  from  the  Greek 
which,  in  signification,  is  equivalent  with  the  Latin  mos^  mores,  whence 
the  adjective  moralis,  and  the  English  word  morals.  Aristotle,  in  tho 
second  book  of  his  “ Ethics,”  addressed  to  his  son,  Nichomachus,  says 
that  moral  science  received  the  name  of  ethics  from  the  word  Mor, 
“habit,  use,  or  custom,”  since  it  is  from  habitual  experience,  and  the 
routine  of  customary  conduct,  that  moral  dispositions  and  principles  are^ 
gradually  formed  and  changed.  Perhaps  the  definition  of  Dr.  Thomas 
Brown  can  not  be  improved:  “Ethics  is  the  science  which  relates  to  our 
mutual  affections,  not  simply  as  phenomena,  but  as  they  are  virtuous  or 
vicious,  right  or  wrong.” 


8 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


. BOOK  I. 


formance  of  wliicli  a probable  reason  can  be  assigned,  a mean 
duty.*  ' 

In  the  opinion,  therefore,  of  Pansetius,  there  is  a threefold 
consideration  for  determining  our  resolution ; for  men  doubt 
whether  the  thing  which  falls  under  their  consideration  be 
of  itself  virtuous  or  disgraceful,  and  in  this  deliberation  minds 
are  often  distracted  into  opposite  sentiments.  They  then 
examine  and  deliberate  whether  or  not  the  subject  of  their 
consideration  conduces  to  the  convenience  or  enjoyment  of  life, 
to  the  improvement  of  their  estate  and  wealth,  to  their  interest 
and  power,  by  which  they  may  profit  themselves  or  their 
relations ; all  which  deliberation  falls  under  the  category  of 
utility.  The  third  kind  of  doubtful  deliberation  is,  when  an 
apparent  utility  seems  to  clash  with  moral  rectitude ; for 
when  utility  hurries  us  to  itself,  and  virtue,  on  the  other  hand, 
seems  to  call  us  back,  it  happens  that  the  mind  is  distracted 
in  the  choice,  and  these  occasion  a double  anxiety  in  delibera- 
tion. In  this  division  (although  an  omission  is  of  the  worst 
consequence  in  divisions  of  this  kind),  two  things  are  omitted ; 
for  we  are  accustomed  to  deliberate  not  only  whether  a 
thing  be  virtuous  or  shameful  in  i':self,  but,  of  two  things  that 
are  virtuous,  which  is  the  more  excellent  ? And,  in  like  man- 
ner, of  two  things  which  are  profitable,  which  is  the  more 
profitable  ? Thus,  it  is  found  that  the  deliberation,  which  he 
considered  to  be  threefold,  ought  to  be  distributed  into  five 
divisions.  We  must,  therefore,  first  treat  of  what  is  virtuous 
in  itself,  and  that  under  two  heads ; in  like  manner,  of  what 
is  profitable ; and  we  shall  next  treat . of  them  compara- 
tively. 

IV.  In  the  first  place,  a disposition  has  been  planted  by 
nature  in  every  species  of  living  creatures  to  cherish  them- 
selves, their  life,  and  body ; to  avoid  those  things  that  appear 
hurtful  to  them ; and  to  look  out  for  and  procure  whatever 

1 “It  was  thus  that  they  (the  Stoics)  were  obliged  to  invent  a double 
morality ; one  for  mankind  at  large,  from  whom  was  expected  no  more 
than  the  KaOrjicov^  which  seems  principally  to  have  denoted  acts  of  duty, 
done  from  inferior  or  mixed  motives ; and  the  other,  which  they  appear  to 
^liave  hoped  from  their  ideal  wise  men,  is  Karopdeo/m,  or  perfect  observance 
of  rectitude,  which  consisted  only  in  moral  acts,  done  for  mere  reverenco 
for  morality,  unaided  by  any  feelings ; all  which  (without  the  exception 
of  pity)  they  classed  among  the  enemies  of  reason  and  the  disturbers  of 
the  human  soul.” — Sir.  J.  Mackintosh’s  “ Progress  of  Ethical  Philosophy.” 


CHAP.  IT. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


9 


is  necessary  for  their  living,  such  as  food,  shelter,  and  the 
like.  Now  the  desire  of  union  for  the  purpose  of  procreating 
their  own  species  is  common  to  all  animals,  as  well  as  a 
certain  degree  of  concern  about  what  is  procreated.  But 
the  greatest  distinction  between  a man  and  a brute  lies  in 
this,  that  the  latter  is  impelled  only  by  instinct,  and  applies 
itself  solely  to  that  object  which  is  present  and  before  it, 
with  very  little  sensibility  to  what  is  past  or  to  come  but 

1 “It  seems  evident  that  animals,  as  well  as  men,  learn  many  things 
from  experience,  and  infer  that  the  same  events  will  always  follow  from 
the  same  causes.  By  this  principle  they  become  acquainted  with  the 
more  obvious  properties  of  external  objects,  and  gradually,  from  their 
birth,  treasure  up  a knowledge  of  the  nature  of  fire,  water,  earth,  stones, 
heights,  depths,  etc.,  and  of  the  efiects  which  result  from  their  operation. 
The  ignorance  and  inexperience  of  the  young  are  here  plainly  distinguish- 
able from  the  cunning  and  sagacity  of  the  old,  who  have  learned  by  long 
observation  to  avoid  what  hurt  them,  and  to  pursue  what  gave  ease  or 
pleasure.  This  is  still  more  evident  from  the  effects  of  discipline  and 
education  on  animals,  who,  by  the  proper  application  of  rewards  and 
punishments,  may  be  taught  any  course  of  action,  the  most  contrary  to 
their  natural  instincts  and  propensities.  Is  it  not  experience  which  ren- 
ders a dog  apprehensive  of  pain  when  you  menace  him,  of  lift  up  the 
whip  to  beat  him  ? Is  it  not  even  experience  which  makes  him  answer 
to  his  name,  and  infer  from  such  an  arbitrary  sound  that  you  mean  him 
rather  than  any  of  his  fellows,  and  intend  to  call  him  when  you  pronounce 
it  in  a certain  manner,  and  with  a certain  tone  and  accent  ? 

“ In  all  these  cases  we  may  observe,  that  the  animal  infers  some  fact 
beyond  what  immediately  strikes  his  senses ; and  that  this  inference  is 
altogether  founded  on  past  experience,  while  the  creature  expects  from 
the  present  object  the  same  consequences  which  it  has  always  found  in 
its  observation  to  result  from  similar  objects. 

“ But  though  animals  learn  many  parts  of  their  knowledge  from  obser- 
vation, there  are  also  many  parts  of  it  which  they  derive  from  the  origi- 
nal hand  of  Nature,  which  much  exceed  the  share  of  capacity  they  pos- 
sess, on  ordinary  occasions,  and  in  which  they  improve  little  or  nothing 
by  the  longest  practice  and  experience.  These  we  denominate  Instincts, 
and  are  so  apt  to  admire  as  something  very  extraordinary  and  inexpli- 
cable by  all  the  disquisitions  of  human  understanding.  But  our  wonder 
will  perhaps  cease  to  diminish  when  we  consider  that  the  experimental 
reasoning  itself,  which  we  possess  in  common  with  beasts,  and  on  which 
the  whole  conduct  of  life  depends,  is  nothing  but  a species  of  instinct,  or 
mechanical  power,  that  acts  in  us  unknown  to  ourselves,  and  in  its  chief 
operations  is  not  directed  by  any  such  relations  or  comparison  of  ideas 
as  are  the  proper  objects  of  our  intellectual  faculties.  Though  the  instinct 
be  different,  yet  still  it  is  an  instinct  which  teaches  a man  to  avoid  the 
fire,  as  much  as  that  which  teaches  a bird,  with  such  exactness,  the  art 
of  incubation,  and  the  whole  economy  and  order  of  its  nursery.” — Hume’a 
“ Inquiry  concerning  the  Human  Understanding,”  sec.  9, 


10 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  L 


man,  because  endowed  with  reason,  by  which  he  discerns  con- 
sequences, looks  into  the  causes  of  things  and  their  progress, 
and  being  acquainted,  as  it  were,  with  precedents,  he  compares 
their  analogies,  and  adapts  and  connects  the  present  with  what 
is  to  come.  It  is  easy  for  him  to  foresee  the  future  direction  of 
all  his  life,  and  therefore  he  prepares  what  is  necessary  for  pass- 
ing through  it. 

Nature,  likewise,  by  the  same  force  of  reason,  conciliates 
man  to  man,  in  order  to  a community  both  of  language  and 
of  life : above  all,  it  implants  in  them  a strong  love  for  their 
offspring  ; it  impels  them  to  desire  that  companies  and 
societies  should  be  formed,  and  that  they  should  mingle  in 
them  ; and  that  for  those  reasons,  man  should  take  care  to 
provide  for  the  supply  of  clothing  and  of  food ; and  that  not 
only  for  himself,  but  for  his  wife,  his  children,  and  for  all 
whom  he  ought  to  hold  dear  and  to  protect.  This  is  an  affec- 
tion which  arouses  the  spirit  and  makes  it  more  strenuous  for 
action. 

The  distinguishing  property  of  man  is  to  search  for  and 
to  follow  after  truth.  Therefore,  Avhen  relaxed  from  our 
necessary  cares  and  concerns,  we  then  covet  to  see,  to  hear, 
and  to  learn  somewhat ; and  we  esteem  knowledge  of  things 
either  obscure  or  wonderful  to  be  the  indispensable  means 
of  living  happily.^  From  this  we  understand  that  truth, 
simplicity,  and  candor,  are  most  agreeable  to  the  nature 
of  mankind.  To  this  passion  for  discovering  truth,  is 
added  a desire  to  direct ; for  a mind,  well  formed  by  na- 
ture, is  unwilling  to  obey  any  man  but  him  who  lays  down 
rules  and  instructions  to  it,  or  who,  for  the  general  advan- 
tage, exercises  equitable  and  lawful  government.  From  this 

% 

^ “ Nature  has  made  it  delightful  to  man  to  know,  disquieting  to  him 
to  know  only  imperfectly,  while  any  thing  remains  in  his  power  that  can 
make  his  knowledge  more  accurate  or  comprehensive ; and  she  has  done 
more  than  all  this ; she  has  not  waited  till  we  reflect  on  the  pleasure 
which  we  are  to  enjoy,  or  the  pain  which  we  are  to  suiBfer.  It  is  suffi- 
cient that  there  is  something  unknown  which  has  a relation  to  some- 
thing that  is  known  to  us.  We  feel  instantly  the  desire  of  knowing  this 
too.  We  have  a desire  of  knowledge  which  nothing  can  abate ; a desire 
that  in  some  greater  or  less  degree  extends  itself  to  every  thing  which 
we  are  capable  of  knowing,  and  not  to  realities  merely  but  to  all  the 
extravagances  of  fiction.” — Dr.  Thomas  Brown’s  “Lectures  on  the  Phi- 
losophy of  the  Human  Mind.” 


CHAP.  V. 


CICEKO’S  OFFICES. 


11 


proceeds  loftiness  of  mind,  and  contempt  for  worldly  inter- 
ests.^ 

Neither  is  it  a mean  privilege  of  nature  and  reason,  that  man 
is  the  only  animal  who  is  sensible  of  order,  of  decency,  and  of 
propriety,  both  in  acting  and  speaking.  In  like  manner,  no 
other  creature  perceives  the  beauty,  the  gracefulness,  and  the 
harmony  of  parts,  in  those  objects  which  are  discerned  by  the 
sight.  And  analogous  perception  to  which  nature  and  reason 
convey  from  the  sight  to  the  mind  ; and  consider  that  beauty, 
regularity,  and  order  in  counsels  and  actions  should  be  still 
more  preserved.  She  is  cautious  not  to  do  aught  that  is  inde- 
cent or  effeminate,  or  to  act  or  think  wantonly  in  any  of  our 
deliberations  or  deeds.  The  effect  and  result  of  all  this  produces 
that  honestum  which  we  are  now  in  search  of;  that  virtue 
which  is  honorable  even  without  being  ennobled  ; and  of  which 
we  may  truly  say,  that  even  were  it  praised  by  none  it  would 
be  commendable  in  itself. 

V.  My  Son  Marcus,  you  here  perceive  at  least  a sketch,  and, 
as  it  were,  the  outline  of  virtue  ; which,  could  we  perceive  her 
with  our  eyes,^  would,  as  Plato  says,  kindle  a wonderful  love  of 
wisdom.  But  Avhatever  is  virtuous  arises  from  some  one  of 
those  four  divisions  : for  it  consists  either  in  sagacity  and  the 
perception  of  truth  ; or  in  the  preservation  of  human  society, 
by  giving  to  every  man  his  due,  and  by  observing  the  faith  of 
contracts  ; or  in  the  greatness  and  firmness  of  an  elevated  and 
unsubdued  mind ; or  in  observing  order  and  regularity  in  all 
our  words  and  in  all  our  actions,  in  which  consists  moderation 
and  temperance. 

1 The  same  sentiment,  with  reference  to  the  love  of  knowledge,  is 
more  beautifully  expressed  by  Yirgil: — 

‘‘Felix  qui  potuit  rerum  cognoscere  causas ; 

Atque  metus  omnes  et  inexorabile  fatum 
Subjecit  pedibus,  strepitumque  Acherontis  avari.” 

Georg.  II.  lines  490-492. 

2 Our  bodily  eyes.]  “ This  is  a fine  and  a celebrated  sentiment  of  Plato. 
*0'iplg  (says  he,  in  his  Phedro),  yfilv  o^vTarr)  ruv  dtd  rov  GUfiarog  epxerat 
oiad?]GeDV,  fj  (f)p6v7j  eig  ovk  opuTcu,  dsivovg  yap  dv  'Kapelxetv  tporag,  el 
TOLOVTOV  eavTTjp  evapyeg  eldc^Tiov  'Kapeixero  elg  6-iptg  iov : ‘ Our  eyesight 
(says  he),  is  the  most  exquisite  of  our  senses,  yet  it  does  not  serve  us  to 
discern  wisdom ; if  it  did,  what  a glow  of  love  would  she  kindle  within 
us.’  The  reader  may,  perhaps,  observe  with  what  propriety  Cicero  ap- 
plies to  virtue  what  Plato  says  of  wisdom.” — Guthrie. 


12 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


Thougli  these  four  divisions  are  connected  and  interwoven 
with  one  another,  yet  certain  kinds  of  duties  arise  from  each 
of  them.  As,  for  instance,  in  that  part  which  I first  de- 
scribed, and  under  which  I comprehended  sagacity  or  wisdom, 
consists  the  search  after  and  discovery  of  truth ; and  this  is 
the  characteristic  function  of  that  virtue  : for  the  man  who  is 
most  sagacious  in  discovering  the  real  truth  in  any  subject, 
and  who  can,  with  the  greatest  perspicacity  and  quickness, 
both  see  and  explain  the  grounds  of  it,  is  justly  esteemed 
a man  of  the  greatest  understanding  and  discernment.  From 
hence  it  follows  that  truth  is,  as  it  were,  the  subject-matter 
which  this  faculty  handles,  and  on  which  it  employs  itself. 
As  to  the  other  three  virtues,  they  necessarily  consist  in  acquir- 
ing and  preserving  those  things  with  which  the  conduct  of  life 
is  connected,  in  order  to  preserve  the  community  and  relations 
of  mankind,  and  to  display  that  excellence  and  greatness  of 
soul  which  exhibits  itself  as  well  in  acquiring  resources  and 
advantages  both  for  ourselves  and  for  our  fiiends,  as,  still  more 
concpicuously,  in  properly  disregarding  them.  As  to  order, 
resolution,  moderation,  and  the  like,  they  come  into  that  rank 
of  virtues  which  require  not  only  an  operation  of  the  mind, 
but  a certain  degree  of  personal  activity ; for  it  is  in  observing 
order  and  moderation  in  those  things  which  constitute  the 
objects  of  active  life,  that  we  shall  preserve  virtue  and  de- 
cency. 

VI.  Now,  of  the  four  divisions  under  which  I have  ranged 
the  nature  and  essence  of  virtue,  that  which  consists  in  the 
knowledge  of  truth  principally  affects  the  nature  of  man. 
For  all  of  us  are  impelled  and  carried  along  to  the  love  of 
knowledge  and  learning,  in  which  we  account  it  glorious  to 
excel,  but  consider  every  slip,  mistake,  ignorance,  and  de- 
ception in  it,  to  be  hurtful  and  shameful.  In  this  pursuit, 
which  is  both  natural  and  virtuous,  two  faults  are  to  be 
avoided.  The  first  is,  the  regarding  things  which  we  do  not 
know  as  if  they  were  understood  by  us,  and  thence  rashly 
giving  them  our  assent.^  And  he  that  wishes,  as  every 
man  ought  to  wish,  to  avoid  this  error,  must  devote  both 
his  time  and  his  industry  to  the  study  of  things.  The  other 
fault  is,  that  some  people  bestow  too  much  study  and  pains 

^ “ The  highest  perfection  of  human  reason  is  to  know  that  there  is  an 
infinity  of  truth  beyond  its  reach.” — Pascal. 


CHAP.  7II. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


13 


upon  things  that  are  obscure/  difficult,  and  even  immaterial  in 
themselves.  When  those  faults  are  avoided,  all  the  pains  and 
care  a man  bestows  upon  studies  that  are  virtuous  in  them- 
selves, and  worthy  of  his  knowledge,  will  be  deservedly  com- 
mended. Thus  we  have  heard  how  Caius  Sulpicius^  excelled  in 
astronomy,  and  Sextus  Pompeius,  to  my  own  knowledge,  in 
mathematics ; many  also  in  logic,  and  more  in  the  civil  law, 
all  which  are  arts  that  serve  to  investigate  truth,  in  the  pursuit 
of  which  our  duty  forbids  us  to  be  diverted  from  transacting 
our  business,  because  the  whole  glory  of  virtue  consists  in  ac- 
tivity. Yet  this  is  often  intermitted,  and  frequent  are  our  re- 
turns to  our  studies.  Then  there  is  an  incessant  working  of 
the  mind,  which,  without  our  taking  pains,  is  sufficient  to  keep 
us  in  the  practice  of  thinking.  Now,  all  our  thoughts,  and 
every  motion  of  the  mind,  should  be  devoted  either  to  the 
forming  of  plans  for  virtuous  actions,  and  such  as  belong  to  a 
good  and  happy  life,  or  else  to  the  pursuits  of  science  and 
knowledge.  I have  now  treated  of  at  least  the  first  source  of 
duty. 

VII.  Now,  as  to  the  other  three,  the  most  extensive  system 
is  that  by  which  the  mutual  society  of  mankind,  and,  as  it 
were,  the  intercourse  of  life,  is  preserved.  Of  this  there  are 
two  parts:  justice,  in  which  virtue  displays  itself  with  the 
most  distinguished  luster,  and  from  which  men  are  termed 
good ; and  allied  to  this,  beneficence,  which  may  likewise  be 
termed  benevolence,  or  liberality.  Now,  the  chief  province 
of  justice  is,  that  no  person  injure  another,  unless  he  is  pro- 

1 ‘‘  The  emperor  Antoninus  very  finely  thanks  the  gods,  that  when  he 
applied  to  the  study  of  philosophy  he  was  taught  by  Junius  Rusticus  to 
avoid  this  error.  Top  eig  tavrov  orrog  eridvjurjaa  ^Llooo(pLag,  fiy 
ijLL^E(7Eiv  elg  TLva  ao(pL(jT7/v  jurjd^  dnoKaOlaaL  em  Tovg  Gvyypa<pElg  ?; 
GvX?ioyla/LLOvg  dvakvELVy  ij  TTEpl  rd  /uETEopoXoyLKd  KarayivEGdaL : ‘ That 
when  I applied  my  mind  to  the  study  of  philosophy,  I did  not  meet  with 
a sophist  for  my  instructor ; neither  did  I spend  my  time  in  reading 
mean  authors,  nor  was  I embarrassed  by  the  uselees  studies  of  astrology.” 
— Guthrie. 

2 “We  have,  in  the  Roman  history,  a remarkable  story  of  this  noble- 
man, by  which  we  may  see  the  excellent  effects  of  learning  in  a man  of 
consideration,  who  knows  how  to  time  it  well.  For  we  are  told,  that 
while  he  served  against  the  Macedonians,  under  Julius  ^milius,  he  fore- 
told to  the  Roman  soldiers  an  eclipse,  and  explained  its  causes,  and 
thereby  prevented  the  consternation  they  otherwise  would  have  fallen 
into,  and  which,  seizing  the  enemies,  they  were  easily  routed  by  the 
Romans.” — Guthrie, 


14 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOR  I. 


voked^  by  suffering  wrong ; next,  tliat  public  property  be  ap- 
propriated to  public,  and  private  to  individual,  use. 

Now,  by  nature  no  property  is  private,  but  dependent  either 
on  ancient  possession  (as  when  men  formerly  came  into  unoc- 
cupied territories) ; or  victory  (as  when  they  have  taken  posses- 
sion of  it  in  war) ; or  public  constitution,  contract,  terms,  or 
lot.  By  those,  the  land  of  Arpinum  is  regarded  as  belonging 
to  the  Arpinates ; the  Tusculan,  to  the  Tusculans.  The  like 
division  holds  with  regard  to  matters  of  private  property. 
Thus,  as  every  man  holds  his  own,  each  should  possess 
that  portion  which  fell  to  his  share  of  those  things  that 
by  nature  were  common ; and  it  follows,  that  no  man  can 
covet  another’s  property  without  violating  the  laws  of  human 
society.^ 

But  (as  has  been  strikingly  said  by  Plato)  we  are  not 
born  for  ourselves  alone,  and  our  country  claims  her  share, 
and  our  friends  their  share  of  us ; and,  as  the  Stoics  hold, 

^ “ Dictat  autem  ratio  homini  (says  Grotius^  de  Jure  Belli  ac  Pacis^  lib. 
2,  cap.  20,  § 5),  nihil  agendum  quod  noceaiur  homini  alter%  nisi^  id  lonum 
habeat  aliquid  propositum.  In  solo  autem  inimici  dolore^  ita  nude  spectato, 
nullum  est  bonum  nisi  falsum  et  imaginarium : Now,  reason  tells  men 
that  we  should  do  no  hurt  to  another  man,  unless  it  is  to  serve  some 
good  end,  for,  from  the  mere  pain  of  another  person,  there  can  result  no 
good  but  what  is  mistaken  and  imaginary.” — Vidplura  in  he.  cit. 

^ This  subject  has  been  extensively  investigated  by  modern  moralists 
and  jurists.  Paley,  in  one  of  his  chapters  on  property,  adduces  and  com- 
ments upon  the  principal  theories  that  have  been  advanced.  Those  of 
Mr.  Locke,  and  of  Paley  himrelf,  may  be  briefly  given  in  the  words  of  the 
latter.  “ Each  man’s  limbs  and  labor  are  his  own  exclusively ; by  occu- 
pying a piece  of  ground  a man  inseparably  mixes  his  labor  with  it,  by 
which  means  the  piece  of  ground  becomes  thenceforward  his  own,  as  you 
can  not  take  it  from  him  without  depriving  him  at  the  same  time  of 
something  which  is  indisputably  his.”  This  is  Mr.  Locke’s  solution.  Dr. 
Paley  adds:  “The  real  foundation  of  our  right  {i.  e.,  to  private  property) 
is  The  Law  of  the  Land.  It  is  the  intention  of  God  that  the  produce 
of  the  earth  be  applied  to  the  use  of  man ; this  intention  can  not  be  ful- 
filled without  establishing  property;  it  is  consistent,  therefore,  with  his 
will  that  property  be  established.  The  land  can  not  be  divided  into 
separate  property  without  leaving  it  to  the  law  of  the  country  to  regu- 
late that  division ; it  is  consistent,  therefore,  with  the  same  will,  that 
the  law  should  regulate  the  division ; and,  consequently,  ‘ consistent  with 
tlie  will  of  God,’  or  ‘right.’  that  I should  possess  that  share  which  these 
regulations  assign  me.  By  whatever  circuitous  train  of  reasoning  you 
attempt  to  derive  this  right,  it  must  terminate  at  last  in  the  will  of  God; 
the  straightest,  therefore,  and  shortest  way  of  arriving  at  this  will,  is  the 
best — Paley’s  “ Moral  and  Political  Philosophy,”  book  3,  chap.  4. 


CHAP.  VIII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


15 


all  that  the  earth  produces  is  created  for  the  use  of  man,  so 
men  are  created  for  the  sake  of  men,  that  they  may  mutually 
do  good  to  one  another;  in  this  we  ought  to  take  nature  for  our 
guide,  to  throw  into  the  public  stock  the  offices  of  general  utility 
by  a reciprocation  of  duties ; sometimes  by  receiving,  sometimes 
by  giving,  and  sometimes  to  cement  human  society  by  arts,  by 
industry,  and  by  our  resources. 

Now  the  foundation  of  justice  is  faithfulness,  which  is  a 
perseverance  and  truth  in  all  our  declarations  and  in  all  our 
promises.  Let  us  therefore  (though  some  people  may  think  it 
over  nice)  imitate  the  Stoics,  who  curiously  examine  whence 
terms  are  derived,  and  consider  that  the  word  fides^  or  faithful- 
ness, is  no  other  than  a performance  of  what  we  have  promised.^ 
But  there  are  two  kinds  of  injustice ; the  first  is  of  those  who 
offer  an  injury,  the  second  of  those  who  have  it  in  their  power 
to  avert  an  injury  from  those  to  whom  it  is  offered,  and  yet  do 
it  not.  For  if  a man,  prompted  either  by  anger  or  any  sudden 
perturbation,  unjustly  assaults  another  man,  such  a one  seems 
as  it  were  to  lay  violent  hands  on  one’s  ally ; and  the  man  who 
does  not  repel  or  withstand  the  injury,  if  he  can,  is  as  much  to 
blame  as  if  he  deserted  the  cause  of  his  parents,  his  friends,  or 
his  country. 

Those  wrongs,  however,  which  are  inflicted  for  the  very  pur- 
pose of  doing  an  injury,  often  proceed  from  fear ; as  for  instance, 
when  a man  who  is  contriving  to  injure  another  is  afraid,  unless 
he  executes  what  he  is  meditating,  that  he  may  himself  sustain 
some  disadvantage  ; but  the  great  incentive  to  doing  wrong  is 
to  obtain  what  one  desires,  and  in  this  crime  avarice  is  the  most 
pervading  motive. 

VIII.  Now  riches  are  sought  after,  both  for  the  necessary 
purposes  of  life  and  for  the  enjoyment  of  pleasure.  But  in 
men  of  greater  minds  the  coveting  of  money  is  with  a view 
to  power  and  to  the  means  of  giving  gratification.  As  M. 
Crassus  lately  used  to  declare,  that  no  man  who  wanted  to 
have  a direction  in  the  government  had  money  enough,  unless 
by  the  interest  of  it  he  could  maintain  an  army.  Mag- 
nificent equipages,  likewise,  and  a style  of  living  made  up 
of  elegance  and  abundance  give  delight,  and  hence  the 
desire  for  money  becomes  boundless.  Nor  indeed  is  the 


1 Fides,  quia  fiat  quod  dictum  est. 


16 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


mere  desire  to  improve  one’s  private  fortune,  without  injury 
to  another,  deserving  of  blame  ; but  injustice  must  ever  be 
avoided. 

But  the  main  cause  why  most  men  are  led  to  a forgetful- 
ness of  justice  is  their  falling  into  a violent  ambition  after 
empire,  honors,  and  glory.  For  what  Ennius  observes  that 

“No  social  bonds,  no  public  faith  remains 
Inviolate 

has  a still  more  extensive  application ; for  where  the  object  of 
ambition  is  of  such  a nature  as  that  several  can  not  obtain  pre- 
eminence, the  contest  for  it  is  generally  so  violent  that  nothing 
can  be  more  difficult  than  to  preserve  the  sacred  ties  of  society. 
This  Tvas  shown  lately  in  the  presumption  of  C.  Caesar,  who,  in 
order  to  obtain  that  direction  in  the  government  which  the 
wildness  of  his  imagination  had  planned  out,  violated  all  laws, 
divine  and  human.  But  what  is  deplorable  in  this  matter  is, 
that  the  desire  after  honor,  empire,  power,  and  glory,  is  gener- 
ally most  prevalent  in  the  greatest  soul  and  the  most  exalted 
genius  for  which  reason  every  crime  of  that  sort  is  the  more 
carefully  to  be  guarded  against.  But  in  ever  species  of  injust- 
ice it  is  a very  material  question,  whether  it  is  committed 
through  some  agitation  of  passion,  which  commonly  is  short- 
lived and  temporary,  or  from  deliberate,  prepense,  malice ; for 
those  things  which  proceed  from  a short,  sudden  fit,  are  of 
slighter  moment  than  those  which  are  inflicted  by  forethought 
and  preparation.  But  enough  has  been  said  concerning  inflict- 
ing injury. 

IX.  Various  are  the  causes  of  men  omitting  the  defense 
of  others,  or  neglecting  their  duty  toward  them.  They  are 
either  unwilling  to  encounter  enmity,  toil,  or  expense ; or, 
perhaps,  they  do  it  through  negligence,  listlessness,  or  lazi- 
ness ; or  they  are  so  embarrassed  in  certain  studies  and  pur- 
suits, that  they  sufier  those  they  ought  to  protect  to  be  ne- 
glected. Hence  we  must  take  care  lest  Plato’s  observation 
with  respect  to  philosophers  should  be  falsified : “ That  they 

1 Milton  thus  expresses  a similar  idea  : 

“ Fame  is  the  spur  which  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise 
(That  last  infirmity  of  noble  mind) 

To  scorn  dehghts  and  live  laborious  days.” — Lycidas. 


CHAP.  IX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


17 


are  men  of  integrity,  because  they  are  solely  engaged  in  the 
pursuit  of  truth,  and  despise  and  neglect  those  considera- 
rations  which  others  value,  and  which  mankind  are  wont  to 
contend  for  among  themselves.”  For,  while  they  abstain 
from  hurting  any  by  the  infliction  of  injury,  they  indeed  assert 
one  species  of  honesty  or  justice,  but  they  fail  in  another ; be- 
cause, being  entangled  in  the  pursuits  of  learning,  they  abandon 
those  they  ought  to  protect.  Some,  therefore,  think  that  they 
would  have  no  concern  with  the  government  unless  they  were 
forced  to  it ; but  still,  it  would  be  more  just  that  it  should  be 
done  voluntarily  ; for  an  action  which  is  intrinsically  right  is 
only  morally  good  in  so  far  as  it  is  voluntary.^  There  are 
others  who,  either  from  a desire  to  improve  their  private  for- 
tune, or  from  some  personal  resentments,  pretend  that  they 
mind  their  own  affairs  only  that  they  may  appear  not  to  do 
wrong  to  another.  Now  such  persons  are  free  from  one  kind 
of  injustice,  but  fall  into  another;  because  they  abandon  the 
fellowship  of  life  by  employing  in  it  none  of  their  zeal,  none  of 
their  labor,  none  of  their  abilities.  Having  thus  stated  the  two 
kinds  of  dishonesty  or  injustice,  and  assigned  the  motives 
for  each  kind,  and  settled  previously  the  considerations  by 
which  justice  is  limited,  we  shall  easily  (unless  we  are  extremely 
selfish)  be  able  to  form  a judgment  of  our  duty  on  every  occa- 
sion. 

For,  to  concern  ourselves  in  other  people^s  affairs  is  a 
delicate  matter.  Yet  Chremes,  a character  in  Terence,  thinks, 
that  there  is  nothing  which  has  a relation  to  mankind 
in  which  he  has  not  a concern.^  Meanwhile,  because  we 
have  the  quicker  perception  and  sensation  of  whatever 
happens  favorably  or  untowardly  to  ourselves  than  to 
others,  which  we  see  as  it  were  at  a greater  distance,  the 

^ The  principle  of  the  spontaneousness  and  intelligence  of  all  actions 
being  essential  to  their  moral  character,  seems,  if  it  be  admitted,  at  once 
fatal  to  those  numerous  schemes  of  ethics,  which  make  the  moral  char- 
acter of  conduct  to  depend  on  its  essential  utility — inasmuch  as  on  the 
latter  showing  a morally  good  action  may  not  only  be  performed  under 
compulsion,  but  even  with  the  dehberate  and  sole  intention  of  producing 
the  opposite  results,  namely,  those  which  are  in  every  aspect  the  most 
mischievous 

2 Heautontimorumenos,  Act  I.,  Scene  1:  Homo  sum:  humani  nihil 
a me  alienum  puto.  Augustin,  who  was  made  bishop  of  Hippo,  a.d.  395, 
mentions  the  universal  applause  with  which  this  admirable  sentiment  was 


18 


CICEEO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


judgment  we  form  of  them  is  very  different  from  what  we 
form  of  ourselves.  Those  therefore  are  wise  monitors  who 
teach  us  to  do  nothing  of  which  we  are  doubtful,  whether  it  is 
honest  or  unjust ; for  whatever  is  honest  manifests  itself  by 
its  own  luster,  hut  doubt  implies  the  entertainment  of  in- 
justice. 

X.  But  occasions  frequently  happen  in  which  those  duties 
which  are  most  worthy  of  an  honest,  and  of  such  as  we  call  a 
worthy  man,  are  altered  and  changed  to  their  contraries. 
For  example,  to  return  a deposit,  to  perform  a promise,  and 
other  matters  that  are  relative  to  truth  and  honesty,  sometimes 
alter  so  that  it  is  just  they  should  not  be  observed  ; for  it  is 
proper  to  have  recourse  to  those  fundamentals  of  honesty  which 
I laid  down  in  the  commencement : in  the  first  place,  that  of 
injuring  no  person ; and,  secondly,  that  of  being  subservient  to 
the  public  good.  When  these  conditions  are  altered  by  cir- 
cumstances, the  moral  obligation,  not  being  invariably  identical, 
is  similarly  altered. 

A promise,  as  a paction,  may  happen  to  be  made,  the 
performance  of  which  may  be  prejudicial  either  to  the  party 
promising,  or  to  the  party  to  whom  the  promise  is  made. 
For  (as  we  see  in  the  play)  had  not  Xeptune  performed  his 
promise  to  Theseus,  the  latter  would  not  have  been  bereaved 
of  his  son  Hippolytus  ; for  it  is  recorded,  that  of  three  wishes 
to  be  granted  him,  the  third,  which  he  made  in  a passion, 
was  the  death  of  Hippolytus,  which,  having  been  granted, 
he  sunk  into  the  most  dreadful  distress.  Therefore,  you 
are  not  to  perform  those  promises  which  may  be  prejudicial 
to  the  party  to  whom  you  promise,  nor  if  they  may  be  more 
hurtful  to  you  than  they  can  be  serviceable  to  him.  It  is 
inconsistenr  with  our  duty  that  the  greater  obligation  should 
be  postponed  to  the  less.  For  instance,  suppose  you  should 
promise  to  appear  as  the  advocate  of  another  person  while 
his  cause  is  depending : now,  if  your  son  was  to  be  seized 
violently  ill,  in  the  mean  time,  it  would  be  no  breach  of  duty 

received  in  the  theater.  He  himself  has  left  us  an  expression  of  the 
same  idea  in  the  following  words  : 

“ Omnis  homo  est  omni  homini  proximus,  nec  ulla  cogitanda  est  longin- 
quitas  generis  ubi  est  natura  communis.” 

“ Every  man  is  most  closely  connected  with  his  every  fellow  man,  nor 
should  any  distance  of  relatiousnip  €nter  into  consideration  where  there 
is  a common  nature.” 


CHAP.  X. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


19 


in  you  not  to  perform  what  you  promise ; the  other  person 
would  rather  depart  from  his  duty  if  he  should  complain  that 
he  had  been  abandoned.  Who,  then,  does  not  see  that  a man 
is  not  bound  by  those  promises  which  he  makes  either  when 
coerced  by  fear,^  or  seduced  by  deceit  ? Many  such  promises 
are  cancelled  by  the  edict  of  the  praetor’s  court,  some  by  the 
laws ; for  very  often  wrongs  arise  through  a quirk,  and  through 
a too  artful  but  fraudulent  construction  of  the  law.  Hence, 
“the  rigor  of  law  is  the  rigor  of  injustice,”  is  a saying  that 
has  now  passed  into  a proverb.  Many  injuries  of  this  kind 
happen  even  in  state  affairs : thus,  when  a general  has  con- 
cluded a truce  with  his  enemy  for  thirty  days,  yet  ravaged  that 
enemy’s  territories  every  night,  because  the  truce  was  only  for 
so  many  days,  not  for  the  nights.  Nor,  indeed,  if  it  is  true,  is 
the  conduct  of  our  countryman,  Quintus  Fabius  Labeo,  to  be 
approved  of,  or  whoever  he  was  (for  I have  the  story  only  by 
report),  who,  being  appointed  an  arbiter  by  the  senate  to  settle 
a boundary  between  the  people  of  Nola  and  those  of  Naples, 
counseled  each  of  those  people  separately  to  do  nothing  covet- 
ously, and  that  each  ought  rather  to  draw  back  than  advance. 
Both  of  them  taking  this  advice,  a space  of  unoccupied 
ground  was  left  in  the  middle.  He,  therefore,  adjudged  to 
each  people  the  boundary  to  which  they  had  confined  them- 
selves, and  all  that  was  in  the  middle  to  the  people  of  Rome. 
This  was  not  to  give  judgment,  but  to  cheat ; wherefore 
we  ought  to  avoid  all  chicane  of  that  kind  in  every  transaction.* 

^ See  conclusion  of  note,  pp.  19,  20. 

* With  these  imperfect,  and  in  some  respects  most  faulty,  notions 
touching  the  obligations  of  promises,  it  will  be  instructive  to  compare 
the  principles  of  modern  moralists.  The  following  is  a brief  digest  of 
these  principles  as  given  by  Paley  (“Moral  and  Political  Philosophy,” 
book  3,  chap.  5) : “ They  who  argue  from  innate  moral  principles,  sup- 
pose a sense  of  the  obhgation  of  promises  to  be  one  of  them ; but  with- 
out assuming  this,  or  any  thing  else,  without  proof,  the  obligation  to  per- 
form promises  may  be  deduced  from  the  necessity  of  such  a conduct  to 
the  well-being,  or  the  existence,  indeed,  of  human  society. 

“ Men  act  from  expectation.  Expectation  is,  inmost  cases,  determined 
by  the  assurances  and  engagements  which  are  received  from  others.  If 
no  dependence  could  be  placed  upon  these  assurances,  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  know  what  judgment  to  form  of  many  future  events,  or  how 
to  regulate  our  conduct  with  respect  to  them.  Confidence,  therefore,  in 
promises  is  essential  to  the  intercourse  of  human  life ; because  without 
it  the  greatest  part  of  our  conduct  would  proceed  upon  chance.  But 
there  could  be  no  confidence  in  promises,  if  men  were  not  obliged  to 


20 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  1 


XL  Certain  duties  are  also  to  be  observed,  even  toward 
those  who  have  wronged  you ; for  there  is  a mean  even  in 

perform  them ; the  obligation,  therefore,  to  perform  promises  is  essential 
to  the  same  ends,  and  in  the  same  degree.  Where  the  terms  of  promise 
admit  of  more  senses  than  one,  the  promise  is  to  be  performed  ‘ in  that 
sense  in  which  the  promiser  apprehended  at  the  time  that  the  promiser 
received  it.’  ” Dr.  Paley  sums  up  his  argument  in  the  following  words: 
“ From  the  account  we  have  given  of  the  obligation  of  promises,  it  is 
evident  that  this  obligation  depends  upon  the  expectations  which  we 
knowingly  and  voluntarily  excite.  Consequently,  any  action  or  conduct 
toward  another,  which  we  are  sensible  excites  expectations  in  that  other, 
is  as  much  a promise,  and  creates  as  strict  an  obligation,  as  the  most 
express  assurances.”  The  exceptions  which  Paley  admits  to  the  obliga- 
tion of  promises  are  the  following ; “1.  Promises  are  not  binding  where 
the  performance  is  impossible.  2.  Promises  are  not  binding  where  the 
performance  is  unlawful.  3.  Promises  are  not  binding  where  they  con 
tradict  a former  promise.  4.  Promises  are  not  binding  before  accept- 
ance ; that  is,  before  notice  given  to  the  promisee.  5.  Promises  are  not 
binding  which  are  released  by  the  promisee.  And,  6.  Erroneous  prom- 
ises are  not  binding  in  certain  cases ; as  where  the  error  proceeds  from 
the  mistake  or  misrepresentation  of  the  promisee ; or,  secondly.  When 
the  promise  is  understood  by  the  promisee  to  proceed  upon  a certain 
supposition,  or  when  the  promiser  apprehended  it  to  be  so  understood, 
and  that  supposition  turns  out  to  be  false  ; then  the  promise  is  not  bind- 
ing.” It  is  only  necessary  to  cite  another  passage  with  reference  to  ex- 
torted promises.  It  seems  obvious  here  to  remark,  that  in  the  case  of 
promises,  or  even  declarations,  unjustly  extorted — as  by  the  highway- 
man or  the  inquisitor — a doubt  may  very  naturally  arise,  whether  the 
absence  of  all  right  on  the  part  of  the  extorting  party,  does  not  involve 
a correlative  freedom  on  the  part  of  the  victim,  to  declare  the  truth,  or 
to  fulfill  the  promise.  This  point  Dr.  Paley  leaves  (unnecessarily,  as  I 
think),  undecided.  “ It  has,”  he  says,  “ long-  been  controverted  among 
moralists,  whether  promises  be  binding  which  are  extorted  by  violence 
or  fear.  The  obhgation  of  all  promises  results,  we  have  seen,  from  the 
necessity  or  the  use  of  that  confidence  which  mankind  repose  in  therm 
The  question,  therefore,  whether  these  promises  are  binding,  will  depend 
upon  this : whether  mankind,  upon  the  whole,  are  benefited  by  the  con- 
fidence placed  on  such  promises?  A highwayman  attacks  you,  and 
being  disappointed  of  his  booty,  threatens  or  prepares  to  murder  you. 
Tou  promise,  with  many  solemn  asseverations,  that  if  he  will  spare  your 
life  he  shall  find  a purse  of  money  left  for  him  at  a place  appointed. 
Upon  the  faith  of  this  promise  he  forbears  from  further  violence.  New, 
your  life  was  saved  by  the  confidence  reposed  in  a promise  extorted  by 
fear ; and  the  lives  of  many  others  may  be  saved  by  the  same.  This  is 
a good  consequence.  On  the  other  hand,  confidence  in  promises  like  these 
greatly  facilitates  the  perpetration  of  robberies ; they  may  be  made  the 
instruments  of  almost  unlimited  extortion.  This  is  a bad  consequence ; 
and  in  the  question  between  the  importance  of  these  opposite  conse- 
quences, resides  the  doubt  concerning  the  obligations  of  such  promises.” 


CHAP.  XI. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


21 


revenge  and  punishments,  ^^^ay,  I am  not  certain  whether 
it  is  not  sufficient  for  the  person  who  has  injured  you  to 
repent  of  the  wrong  done,  so  that  he  may  never  be  guilty  of 
the  like  in  future,  and  that  others  may  not  be  so  forward  to 
offend  in  the  same  manner.^  Now,  in  government  the  laws 
of  war  are  to  be  most  especially  observed ; for  since  there  are 
two  manners  of  disputing,  one  by  debating,  the  other  by 
lighting,  though  the  former  characterizes  men,  the  latter, 
brutes,  if  the  former  can  not  be  adopted,  recourse  must  be  had 
to  the  latter.  Wars,  therefore,  are  to  be  undertaken  for  this 
end,  that  we  may  live  in  peace  without  being  injured ; but 
when  we  obtain  the  victory,  we  must  preserve  those  enemies 
who  behaved  without  cruelty  or  inhumanity  during  the  war : 
for  example,  our  forefathers  received,  even  as  members  of 
their  state,  the  Tuscans,  the  ^qui,  the  Volscians,  the  Sabines, 
and  the  Hernici,  but  utterly  destroyed  Carthage  and  Nu- 
mantia.  I am  unwilling  to  mention  Corinth  ; but  I believe 
they  had  some  object  in  it,  and  particularly  they  were  induced 
to  destroy  it,  lest  the  advantages  of  its  situation  should  invite 
the  inhabitants  to  make  war  in  future  times.  In  my  opinion, 
we  ought  always  to  consult  for  peace,  which  should  have  in 
it  nothing  of  perfidy.  Had  my  voice  been  followed  on  this 
head,  we  might  still  have  had  some  form  of  government  (if 
not  the  best),  whereas  now  we  have  none.  And,  while  w^e 
are  bound  to  exercise  consideration  toward  those  whom  we 

^ “ The  insolence  and  brutality  of  anger,  when  we  indulge  its  fury 
without  check  or  restraint  is,  of  all  objects,  the  most  detestable.  But 
we  admire  that  noble  and  generous  resentment  which  governs  its  pur- 
suit of  the  greatest  injuries,  not  by  the  rage  which  they  are  apt  to  ex- 
cite in  the  breast  of  the  sufferer,  but  by  the  indignation  which  they 
naturally  call  forth  in  that  of  the  impartial  spectator  ; which  allows  no 
word,  no  gesture,  to  escape  it  beyond  what  this  more  equitable  senti- 
ment would  dictate ; which  never,  even  in  thought,  attempts  any  greater 
vengeance,  nor  desires  to  inflict  any  greater  punishment,  than  what 
every  indifferent  person  would  rejoice  to  see  executed.” — Smith’s  “Moral 
Sentiments,”  part  1,  chap.  5.  • 

“ The  nobleness  of  pardoning  appears,  upon  many  occasions,  superior 
even  to  the  most  perfect  propriety  of  resenting.  When  either  proper 
acknowledgments  have  been  made  by  the  offending  party,  or  even  with- 
out any  such  acknowledgments,  when  the  public  interest  requires  that 
the  most  mortal  enemies  should  unite  for  the  discharge  of  some  import- 
ant duty,  the  man  who  can  cast  away  all  animosity,  and  act  with  con- 
fidence and  cordiality  toward  the  person  who  had  most  grievously  offended 
him,  seems  justly  to  merit  our  highest  admiration.” — Id.  part  6 "tsection  3. 


22 


CICERO’S  OFEICES. 


BOOK  L 


Lave  conquered  by  force,  so  those  should  be  received  into  our 
protection  who  throw  themselves  upon  the  honor  of  our 
general,  and  lay  down  their  arms,  even  though  the  battering 
rams  should  have  struck  their  walls.  In  which  matter  justice 
was  cultivated  with  so  much  care  among  our  countrymen,  that 
it  was  a custom  among  our  ancestors  that  they  who  received 
under  their  protection  cities,  or  nations  conquered  in  war,  be- 
came their  patrons. 

Now,  the  justice  of  war  was  most  religiously  pointed  out 
by  the  fecial  law  of  the  Romans.  From  this  it  may  be 
understood  that  no  war  is  just  unless  it  is  undertaken  to 
reclaim  property,^  or  unless  it  is  solemnly  denounced  and 
proclaimed  beforehand.  Popilius,  as  general,  held  a province 
where  Cato’s  son  served  in  his  army.  It  happened  that 
Popilius  thought  proper  to  disband  one  legion  ; he  dismissed, 
at  the  same  time,  Cato’s  son,  who  was  serving  in  that  legion. 
When,  however,  through  love  of  a military  life,  he  remained 
in  the  army,  his  father  wrote  to  Popilius,  that  if  he  suffered 
him  to  continue  in  the  service  he  should,  for  a second  time  bind 
him  by  the  military  oath  ; because  the  obligation  of  the  former 
having  been  annulled,  he  could  not  lawfully  fight  with  the  enemy. 

So  very  strict  was  their  observance  of  laws  in  making 
war.  There  is  extant  a letter  of  old  Cato  to  his  son  on  this 
occasion,  in  which  he  writes,  “ That  he  heard  he  had  got  his 
discharge  from  the  consul,  while  he  was  serving  as  a soldier  in 
Macedonia,  during  the  war  with  Perseus.  He,  therefore,  en- 
joins him  to  take  care  not  to  enter  upon  action  ; for  he  declares 
that  it  is  not  lawful  for  a man  who  is  not  a soldier  to  fight  with 
an  enemy. 

XII.  And,  indeed,  there  is  another  thing  that  I should 
observe,  that  he  who  ought  properly  be  termed  2^^rduelUs^ 
that  is,  a stubborn  foe,  is  called  a hostis,  and  thereby  the 
softness  of  the  appellation  lessens  the  horror  of  the  thing  ; for 
by  our  ancestors  he  was  called  hostis  whom  we  now  call  a 

^ To  reclaim  property^  etcJ]  “ The  formal  and  public  declaration  of  war 
was  an  indispensable  preliminary  to  it  among  the  Romans.  This  declar- 
ation was  either  conditional  or  simple.  The  conditional  was  when  it  was 
made  cum  rerum  repetitione^  which  sometimes  not  only  implied  satisfac- 
tion for  property  but  punishment  upon  the  offender.  A simple  declara- 
tion was  without  any  condition,  as  when  an  injury  could  not  be  repaired; 
or  when  war  was  first  declared  by  the  other  party.” — See  Grotius^  lib  3. 
chap.  3.  De  Jure  Belli^  etc, — GvXhrie. 


CHAP.  XIII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


23 


stranger.  This  the  twelve  tables  demonstrate : as  in  the 
Avords,  “ a day  appointed  for  the  hostis  to  plead and  again, 
‘‘  a Koman’s  right  of  property,  as  against  a hostis^  never 
terminates.”  What  can  exceed  the  gentleness  of  this,  to  call 
those  with  whom  you  were  at  war  by  so  soft  an  appellation  ? 
It  is  true  that  length  of  time  has  affixed  a harsher  significa- 
tion to  this  word,  which  has  now  ceased  to  be  applied  to  the 
stranger,  and  remains  peculiar  to  him  Avho  cariies  arms 
agains  us. 

Meanwhile,  when  we  fight  for  empire,  and  Avhen  Ave 
seek  glory  in  arms,  all  those  grounds  of  war  Avhich  I have 
already  enumerated  to  be  just  ones,  must  absolutely  be  in 
force.  But  wars  that  are  founded  upon  the  glory  of  con- 
quest alone,  are  to  be  carried  on  with  less  rancor ; for,  as 
we  treat  a fellow-citizen  in  a different  manner  as  a foe,  than 
we  do  as  an  antagonist ; — as  with  the  latter  the  struggle  is 
for  glory  and  power,  as  the  former  for  life  and  reputation ; — - 
thus  we  fought  against  the  Celtiberians  and  the  Cimbrians 
as  against  enemies,  the  question  being  not  Avho  should  com- 
mand but  who  should  exist ; but  we  fought  for  empire  against 
the  Latines,  the  Sabines,  the  Samnites,  the  Carthaginians,  and 
Pyrrhus.  The  Carthaginians,  ’tis  true,  were  faithless,  and 
Hannibal  was  cruel,  but  the  others  Avere  better  principled. 
The  speech  of  Pyrrhus  about  ransoming  the  captives  is  a noble 
one : 

In  war  not  crafty,  but  in  battle  bold, 

No  wealth  I value,  and  I spurn  at  gold. 

Be  steel  the  only  metal  shall  decree 
The  fate  of  empire,  or  to  you  or  me. 

The  gen’rous  conquest  be  by  courage  tried. 

And  all  the  captives  on  the  Roman  side, 

I swear,  by  all  the  gods  of  open  war. 

As  fate  their  lives,  their  freedom  I will  spare. 

This  sentiment  is  truly  noble,  and  Avorthy  the  descendant  of  the 
^acidae. 

XIII.  Xay,  if  even  private  persons  should,  induced  by 
circumstances,  make  a promise  to  the  enemy,  even  in  this 
fidelity  should  be  observed.  Thus  Kegulus,  when  he  was 
made  a prisoner  by  the  Carthaginians  in  the  first  Punic  war, 
being  sent  to  Kome  to  treat  of  an  exchange  of  prisoners, 
he  SAVore  that  he  would  return.  The  first  thing  he  did  Avhen 
he  came  to  Eome  was  to  deliver  his  opinion  in  the  senate  that 


24 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I 


the  prisoners  should  not  he  restored  ; and  after  that,  when  he 
was  detained  by  his  relations  and  friends,  he  chose  to  deliver 
himself  up  to  a cruel  death  rather  than  to  falsify  his  word  to 
the  enemy. 

But  in  the  second  Punic  war,  after  the  battle  of  Cannae, 
Hannibal  sent  ten  Romans  to  Rome,  under  an-  oath  that  they 
would  return  to  him  unless  they  procured  the  prisoners  to 
be  ransomed ; but  the  censors  disfranchised,  as  long  as  they 
lived,  all  of  them  that  were  peijured,  as  well  as  him  who 
had  devised  a fraudulent  evasion  of  his  oath.  For  when,  by 
the  leave  of  Hannibal,  he  had  left  the  camp,  he  returned 
soon  after,  to  say  that  he  had  forgotten  something  ; and  then 
again  leaving  the  camp  he  considered  himself  free  horn  the 
obligations  of  his  oath,  which  he  was  with  regard  to  the 
words  but  not  the  meaning  of  them ; for  in  a promise,  what 
you  thought,  and  not  what  you  said,  is  always  to  be  consid^ 
ered.^  But  our  forefathers  set  us  a most  eminent  example 
of  justice  toward  an  enemy ; for  when  a deserter  from 
Pyrrhus  offered  to  the  senate  to  dispatch  that  prince  by  poison, 
the  senate  and  C.  Fabricius  delivered  the  traitor  up  to  Pyrrhus. 
Thus  they  disapproved  of  taking  off  by  treachery  an  enemy 
wdio  was  powerful,  and  was  carrying  on  against  them  an  ag- 
gressive war. 

Enough  has  now  been  said  respecting  the  duties  connected 
with  w arfare  ; but  w^e  must  bear  in  mind,  that  justice  is  due 

^ As  oaths  are  designed  for  the  security  of  the  imposer,  it  is  manifest 
that  they  must  be  interpreted  and  performed  in  the  sense  in  which  the 
imposer  intends  them ; otherwise  they  afford  no  security  to  him.  And 
this  is  the  meaning  and  reason  of  the  rule,  “jurare  in  animum  impon- 
entis.” — Paley’s  “ Moral  and  Political  Philosophy,”  book  3,  chap.  16. 

Against  the  practice  of  administering  oaths  as  demoralizing,  we  may 
instance  two  authorities.  “ The  effect,”  says  Dymond,  “ of  instituting 
oaths  is  to  diminish  the  practical  obligation  of  simple  affirmation.  The 
law  says  you  must  speak  the  truth  when  you  are  upon  your  oath,  which 
is  the  same  thing  as  to  say  that  it  is  less  harm  to  violate  truth  when  you 
are  not  on  your  oath.  The  court  sometimes  reminds  a witness  that  ho 
is  upon  oath,  which  is  equivalent  to  saying.  If  you  were  not  we  should 
think  less  of  your  mendacity.  The  same  lesson  is  inculcated  by  the  as- 
signation of  penalties  to  perjury  and  not  to  falsehood.”  “ There  is,”  says 
Godwin,  in  his  “Political  Justice,”  book  6,  c.  5,  “no  cause  of  insincerity, 
prevarication,  and  falsehood  more  powerful  than  the  practice  of  admin- 
istering oaths  in  a court  of  justice.  All  attempts  to  strengtiien  the  obli- 
gations of  morality,  by  fictitious  and  spurious  motives,  will,  in  the  sequel, 
be  found  to  have  no  tendency  but  to  relax  them.” 


CHAP.  XI r. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


25 


even  to  the  lowest  of  mankind  ; and  nothing  can  be  lower 
than  the  condition  and  fortune  of  a slave.  And  yet  those 
prescribe  wisely  who  enjoin  us  to  put  them  upon  the  same 
footing  as  hired  laborers,  obliging  them  to  do  their  work, 
but  giving  them  their  dues.  Now,  as  injustice  may  be  done 
two  ways,  by  force  or  fraud ; fraud  being  the  property  of  a 
fox,  force  that  of  a lion ; both  are  utterly  repugnant  to 
society,  but  fraud  is  the  more  detestable.  But  in  the  whole 
system  of  villainy,  none  is  more  capital  than  that  of  the  men, 
who,  when  they  most  deceive,  so  manage  as  that  they  may 
seem  to  be  virtuous  men.  Thus  much,  then,  on  the  subject  of 
justice. 

XIV.  Let  me  now,  as  I proposed,  speak  of  beneficence 
and  liberality,  virtues  that  are  the  most  agreeable  to  the 
nature  of  man,  but  which  involve  many  precautionary  con- 
siderations. For,  in  the  first  place,  we  are  to  take  care  lest 
our  kindness  should  hurt  both  those  whom  it  is  meant  to 
assist,  and  others.  In  the  next  place,  it  ought  not  to  exceed 
our  abilities ; and  it  ought  to  be  rendered  to  each  in  proportion 
to  his  worth.  This  is  the  fundamental  standard  of  justice  to 
which  all  these  things  should  be  referred.  For  they  who  do 
kindnesses  which  prove  of  disservice  to  the  person  they  pre- 
tend to  oblige,  should  not  be  esteemed  beneficent  nor  generous, 
but  injurious  sycophants.  And  they  who  injure  one  party  in 
order  to  be  liberal  to  another,  are  guilty  of  the  same  dishones- 
ty as  if  they  should  appropriate  to  themselves  what  belongs  to 
another.^ 

Now  many,  and  they  especially  who  are  the  most 
ambitious  after  grandeur  and  glory,  rob  one  party  to  enrich 
another ; and  account  themselves  generous  to  their  friends  if 
they  enrich  them  by  whatever  means.  This  is  so  far  from 
being  consistent  with,  that  nothing  can  be  more  contrary  to, 
our  duty.  We  should  therefore  take  care  to  practice  that  kind 
of  generosity  that  is  serviceable  to  our  friends,  but  hurtful  to 

^ “ Liberality  in  princes  is  regarded  as  a mark  of  beneficence.  But 
when  it  occurs  that  the  homely  bread  of  the  honest  and  industrious  is 
often  thereby  converted  into  delicious  cakes  for  the  idle  and  the  prodigal, 
we  soon  retract  our  heedless  praises.  The  regrets  of  a prince  for  having 
lost  a day  were  noble  and  generous,  but  had  he  intended  to  have  spent 
it  in  acts  of  generosity  to  his  greedy  courtiers,  it  was  better  lost  than 
misemployed  after  that  manner.” — Hume’s  “Dissertation  on  the  Pas- 
sions,” section  2.  ^ 


26 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


none.  Upon  this  principle,  when  Lucius  Sylla  and  Caius 
Caesar  took  property  from  its  just  owners  and  transferred 
it  to  strangers,  in  so  doing  they  ought  not  to  be  accounted 
generous  ; for  nothing  can  be  generous  that  is  not  at  the  same 
time  just. 

• Our  next  part  of  circumspection  is,  that  our  generosity 
never  should  exceed  our  abilities.  For  they  who  are  more 
generous  then  their  circumstances  admit  of  are,  first,  guilty 
in  this,  that  they  wrong  their  relations ; because  they  bestow 
upon  strangers  those  means  which  they  might,  with  greater 
justice,  give  or  leave  to  those  who  are  nearest  to  them.  Now 
a generosity  of  this  kind  is  generally  attended  with  a lust  to 
ravish  and  to  plunder,  in  order  to  be  furnished  with  the  means 
to  give  away.  For  it  is  easy  to  observe,  that  most  of  them  are 
not  so  much  by  nature  generous,  as  they  are  misled  by  a kind 
of  pride  to  do  a great  many  things  in  order  that  they  may 
seem  to  be  generous ; which  things  seem  to  spring  not  so 
much  from  good  will  as  from  ostentation.  Now  such  a simula- 
tion is  more  nearly  allied  to  duplicity  than  to  generosity  or 
virtue. 

The  third  head  proposed  was,  that  in  our  generosity  we 
should  have  regard  to  merit ; and,  consequently,  examine  both 
the  morals  of  the  party  to  whom  we  are  generous,  and  his  dis- 
position toward  us,  together  with  the  general  good  of  society, 
and  how  far  he  may  have  already  contributed  to  our  own  in- 
terest. Could  all  those  considerations  be  united,  it  were  the  more 
desirable  ; but  the  object  in  whom  is  united  the  most  numerous 
and  the  most  important  of  them,  ought  to  have  the  greatest 
weight  with  us. 

XV.  But  as  we  live  not  with  men  who  are  absolutely 
perfect  and  completely  wise,  but  with  men  who  have  great 
merit  if  they  possess  the  outlines  of  worth,  we  are,  I think, 
from  thence  to  infer,  that  no  man  is  to  be  neglected  in  whom 
there  appears  any  indication  of  virtue  ; and  that  each  should 
be  regarded  in  proportion  as  he  is  adorned  with  the  milder 
virtues  of  modesty,  temperance,  and  that  very  justice  of  which 
I have  so  largely  treated.  For  fortitude  and  greatness  of  spirit 
is  commonly  too  violent  in  a man  who  is  not  completely  wise 
and  perfect ; but  the  aforesaid  virtues  seem  to  belong  more  to 
a good  man. 

Having  said  thus  much  of  morals ; with  regard  to  the 


CHAP.  XVI. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


27 


kindness  which  a person  expresses  for  us,  our  first  duty  is, 
to  perform  the  most  for  him  by  whom  we  are  most  beloved. 
Now  we  are  to  judge  of  kindness,  not  like  children,  by  a sort  of 
ardor  of  affection,  but  by  its  stability  and  constancy.  But  if 
its  merits  are  such  that  we  are  not  to  court  but  to  requite 
the  kindness,  the  greater  ought  our  care  to  be  ; for  there  is 
no  duty  more  indispensable  than  that  of  returning  a kind- 
ness. Now  if,  as  Hesiod  enjoins,  we  ought,  if  it  is  in  our 
power,  to  repay  what  we  have  received  for  mere  use  with 
interest,  how  ought  we  to  act  when  called  upon  by  kindness  ? 
Are  we  not  to  imitate  those  fertile  fields  which  yield  far  more 
than  they  have  received?  For,  if  we  readily  oblige  those 
who  we  are  in  hopes  will  serve  us,  how  ought  we  to  behave 
toward  those  who  have  served  us  already  ? For  as 

generosity  is  of  two  kinds,  the  one  conferring  a favor,  the 

other  repaying  it,  whether  we  confer  it  or  not  is  at  our  own 
option,  but  the  not  repaying  it  is  not  allowable  in  a good 
man,  provided  he  can  do  so  without  injury  to  any.  Now 
there  are  distinctions  to  be  made  as  to  the  benefits  received ; 
and  it  is  clear  that  the  greatest  return  is  due  in  each  case  to 
the  greatest  obligation.  Meanwhile,  we  are  above  all  things 
to  consider  the  spirit,  the  zeal,  and  the  meaning  with  which 
a favor  is  conferred.  For  many  confer  numerous  favors 
with  a sort  of  recklessness,  without  any  judgment  or  prin- 
ciple, upon  all  mankind  promiscuously,  or  influenced  by  sudden 
perturbation  of  mind,  as  if  by  a hurricane  : such  favors  are 

not  to  be  esteemed  so  highly  as  those  which  result  from  judg- 

ment, consideration,  and  consistency.  But  in  conferring  or  re- 
quiting kindness,  the  chief  rule  of  our  duty  ought  to  be,  if  all 
other  circumstances  are  equal,  to  confer  most  upon  the  man  who 
stands  in  greatest  need  of  assistance.  The  reverse  of  this  is 
practiced  by  the  generality,  who  direct  their  greatest  services  to 
the  man  from  whom  they  hope  the  most,  though  he  may  stand 
in  no  need  of  them. 

XVI.  Now  society  and  alliances  among  men  would  be 
best  preserved  if  the  greatest  kindness  should  be  manifested 
where  there  is  the  nearest  relation.  But  we  ought  to  go 
higher,  if  we  are  to  investigate  the  natural  principles  of 
intercourse  and  community  among  men.  The  first  is,  that 
which  is  perceived  in  the  society  of  the  whole  human  race, 
and  of  this  the  bond  is  speech  and  reason,  which  by 


28 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


teaching,  learning,  communicating,  debating,  and  judging, 
conciliate  men  together,  and  bind  them  into  a kind  of 
natural  society.  There  is  nothing  in  which  we  differ  more 
from  the  nature  of  brutes  than  in  this ; for  we  very  often 
allow  them  to  have  courage,  as  for  instance,  horses  and 
lions ; but  we  never  admit  that  they  possess  justice,  equity, 
and  goodness;  because  they  are  void  of  reason  and  speech. 
Now  this  is  the  kind  of  society  that  is  most  extensive  with 
mankind  among  themselves,  and  it  goes  through  all ; for 
here  a community  of  all  things  that  nature  has  produced  for 
the  common  use  of  mankind  is  preserved,  so  that  they 
may  be  possessed  in  the  manner  proscribed  by  laws  and  civil 
statutes : of  which  laws  themselves  some  are  to  be  observed  in 
accordance  with  the  Greek  proverb,  “that  all  things  among 
friends  are  to  be  in  common.”  Now  this  community  consists 
of  things  which  are  of  that  nature  which,  though  placed 
by  Ennius  under  one  head,  may  be  applied  to  many.  “ He 
(says  that  author)  who  kindly  shows  the  bewildered  traveler 
the  right  road,  does  as  it  were  light  his  lamp  by  his  own ; 
which  affords  none  the  less  light  to  himself  after  it  has  lighted 
the  other.” 

By  this  single  example  he  sufficiently  enjoins  on  us  to 
perform,  even  to  a stranger,  all  the  service  we  can  do 
without  detriment  to  ourselves.  Of  which  service  the 
following  are  common  illustrations : “ That  we  are  to  debar 
no  man  from  the  running  stream ;”  “ That  we  are  to  suffer  any 
who  desire  it  to  kindle  fire  at  our  fire  “ That  we  are  to  give 
faithful  counsel  to  a person  who  is  in  doubt :”  all  which  are  par- 
ticulars that  are  serviceable  to  the  receiver  without  being  det- 
rimental to  the  bestower.  We  are  therefore  to  practice  them, 
and  be  constantly  contributing  somewhat  to  the  common  good. 
As  the  means,  however,  of  each  particular  person  are  very 
confined  and  the  numbers  of  the  indigent  are  boundless,  our 
distributive  generosity  ought  still  to  be  bounded  by  the  princi- 
ple of  Ennius — “it  nevertheless  gives  light  to  one’s  self” — that 
we  may  still  be  possessed  of  the  means  to  be  generous  to  our 
friends. 

XVII.  Now  the  degrees  of  human  society  are  many. 
For,  to  quit  the  foregoing  unbounded  kind,  there  is  one  more 
confined,  which  consists  of  men  of  the  same  race,  nation, 
and  language,  by  which  people  are  more  intimately  connected 


CHAP.  xvir. 


CICERO’S  OPEICES. 


29 


among  tliemselves.  A more  contracted  society  than  that  con- 
sists of  men  inhabiting  the  same  city  ; for  many  things  are  in 
common  among  fellow-citizens,  such  as  their  forum,  their  tem- 
ples, their  porticos,  their  streets,  their  laws,  their  rites,  their 
courts  of  justice,  their  trials,  not  to  mention  their  customs,  and 
intimacies,  with  a great  number  of  particular  dealings  and  inter- 
courses of  numbers  with  numbers.  There  is  a still  more  con- 
tracted degree  of  society,  which  is  that  of  relatives ; and  this 
closes,  in  a narrow  point,  the  unbounded  general  association  of 
the  human  race. 

For,  as  it  is  a common  natural  principle  among  all  animated 
beings  that  they  have  a desire  to  propagate  their  own  species, 
the  first  principles  of  society  consists  in  the  marriage  tie,  the 
next  in  children,  the  next  in  a family  within  one  roof,  where 
every  thing  is  in  common.  This  society  gives  rise  to  the  city, 
and  is,  as  it  were,  the  nursery  of  the  commonwealth.  Next  fol- 
lows the  connection  of  brotherhood,  next  that  of  cousins,  in  their 
different  degrees ; and,  when  they  grow  too  numerous  to  be 
contained  under  one  roof,  they  are  transplanted  to  different 
dwellings,  as  it  were  to  so  many  colonies.  Then  follow  mar- 
riages and  alliances,  whence  spring  more  numerous  relationships. 
The  descendants,  by  this  propagation,  form  the  origin  of  com- 
monwealths ; but  the  ties  and  affections  of  blood  bind  mankind 
by  affection.^ 

For  there  is  something  very  powerful  in  having  tne  monu- 

1 “ Families  are  so  many  centers  of  attraction,  which  preserve  man- 
kind from  being  scattered  and  dissipated  by  the  repulsive  powers  of  self- 
ishness. The  order  of  nature  is  evermore  from  particulars  to  generals. 
As  in  the  operations  of  intellect  we  proceed  from  the  contemplation  of 
individuals  to  the  formation  of  general  abstractions,  so  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  passions,  in  like  manner  we  advance  from  private  to  public 
affections ; from  the  love  of  parents,  brothers,  and  sisters,  to  those  more 
expanded  regards  which  embrace  the  immense  society  of  human  kind.” 
— Robert  Hall’s  “ Sermon  on  Modern  Infidelity.”  In  apparent  opposi- 
tion to  this  view  stands  the  theory  of  President  Edwards,  which  was 
afterward  extensively  adopted  in  an  aggravated  form.  “ True  virtue, 
according  to  him  (says  Sir  James  Maekintosh,  “ Progress  of  Ethical  Phi- 
losophy”), consists  in  benevolence,  or  love  to  being  ‘in  general,’  which 
he  afterward  limits  to  ‘intelligent  being,’  though  would  have 

involved  a more  reasonable  limitation.  This  good  will  is  felt  toward  a 
particular  being,  first  in  proportion  to  Ms  degree  of  existence  (‘  for,’  says  he, 

‘ that  which  is  great  has  more  existence,  and  is  further  from  nothing 
than  that  which  is  little),’  and  secondly,  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in 
which  that  particular  Toeing  feels  lenevolence  to  others  f Perhaps  the  ablest 


30 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  L 


merits  of  our  ancestors  the  same,  in  practicing  the  same 
religious  rites,  and  in  having  the  same  places  of  interment. 
But  among  all  the  degrees  of  society,  none  is  more  excel- 

refutation  of  these  principles,  in  a brief  compass,  is  found  in  the  following 
note  by  the  Rev.  Robert  Hall  in  the  Sermon  above  quoted. 

“ It  is  somewhat  singular  that  many  of  the  fashionable  infidels  have 
hit  upon  a definition  of  virtue  which  perfectly  coincides  with  that  of  cer- 
tain metaphysical  divines  in  America,  first  invented  and  defended  by  that 
most  acute  reasoner,  Joxathan  Edwards.  They  both  place  virtue  ex- 
clusively in  a passion  for  the  general  good ; or,  as  Mr.  Edwards  expresses 
it,  love  to  being  in  general ; so  that  our  love  is  always  to  be  proportioned 
to  the  magnitude  of  its  object  in  the  scale  of  being:  which  is  liable  to 
the  objections  I have  already  stated,  as  well  as  to  many  others  which 
the  limits  of  this  note  wiU  not  permit  me  to  enumerate.  Let  it  suffice  to 
remark,  (1.)  That  virtue,  on  these  principles,  is  an  utter  impossibility ; 
for  the  system  of  being,  comprehending  the  great  Supreme,  is  infinite : 
and,  therefore,  to  maintain  the  proper  proportion,  the  force  of  particular 
attachment  must  be  infinitely  less  than  the  passion  for  the  general  good ; 
but  the  limits  of  the  human  mind  are  not  capable  of  any  emotion  so 
infinitely  different  in  degree.  (2.)  Since  our  views  of  the  extent  of  the 
universe  are  capable  of  perpetual  enlargement,  admitting  the  sum  of  ex- 
istence is  ever  the  same,  we  must  return  back  at  each  step  to  diminish 
the  strength  of  particular  affections,  or  they  will  become  disproportionate, 
and  consequently,  on  these  principles,  vicious ; so  that  the  balance  must 
be  continually  fluctuating,  by  the  weights  being  taken  out  of  one  scale 
and  put  into  the  other.  (3.)  If  virtue  consists  exclusively  in  love  to  being 
in  general,  or  attachment  to  the  general  good,  the  particular  affections 
are,  to  every  purpose  of  virtue,  useless,  and  even  pernicious  ; for  their  im- 
mediate, nay,  their  necessary  tendency  is  to  attract  to  their  objects  a pro- 
portion of  attention  which  far  exceeds  their  comparative  value  in  the 
general  scale.  To  allege  that  the  general  good  is  promoted  by  them,  will 
be  of  no  advantage  to  the  defense  of  this  system,  but  the  contrary,  by 
confessing  that  a greater  sum  of  happiness  is  attained  by  a deviation 
from,  than  an  adherence  to,  its  principles ; unless  its  advocates  mean  by 
the  love  of  being  in  general  the  same  thing  as  the  private  affections, 
which  is  to  confound  all  the  distinctions  of  language,  as  well  as  aU  tho 
operations  of  mind.  Let  it  be  remembered,  we  have  no  dispute  respect- 
ing what  is  the  ultimate  end  of  virtue,  which  is  allowed  on  both  sides  to 
be  the  greatest  sum  of  happiness  in  the  universe.  The  question  is  mere- 
ly, what  is  virtue  itself?  or,  in  other  words,  what  are  the  means  appointed 
for  the  attainment  of  that  end  ? 

“ There  is  little  doubt,  from  some  parts  of  Mr.  Godwin’s  work,  entitled 
‘Political  Justice,’  as  well  as  from  his  early  habits  of  reading,  that  he 
was  indebted  to  Mr.  Edwards  for  his  principal  arguments  against  the 
private  affections ; though,  with  a daring  consistency,  he  has  pursued 
his  principles  to  an  extreme  from  which  that  most  excellent  man  would 
have  revolted  with  horror.  The  fundamental  error  of  tho  whole  system 
arose,  as  I conceive,  from  a mistaken  pursuit  of  simplicity : from  a wish 
to  construct  a moral  system,  without  leaving  sufficient  scope  for  the  infi- 


CHAP.  xvir. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


31 


lent,  none  more  stable,  than  when  worthy  men,  through  a sim- 
ilarity of  manners,  are  intimately  connected  together ; for,  as  I 
have  often  said,  even  when  we  discern  the  honestum  in  another 
it  touches  us,  and  makes  us  friends  to  the  man  in  whom  it  resides. 

iNTow,  though  virtue  of  every  kind  attracts  and  charms  us  to 
the  love  of  those  who  possess  it,  yet  that  love  is  strongest  that 
is  effected  by  justice  and  generosity.  For  nothing  is  more 
lovely,  nothing  is  more  binding,  than  a similarity  of  good  dis- 
positions because  among  those  whose  pursuits  and  pleasures 
are  the  same,  every  man  is  pleased  as  much  with  another  as  he 
is  with  himself,  and  that  is  effected  which  Pythagoras  chiefly 
contemplates  in  friendship,  “that  many  become  one.”  A strong 
community  is  likewise  effected  by  good  offices  mutually  confer- 
red and  received ; and,  provided  these  be  reciprocal  and  agree- 

nite  variety  of  moral  phenomena  and  mental  combination ; in  consequence 
of  which  its  advocates  were  induced  to  place  virtue  exclusively  in  some 
one  disposition  of  mind : and,  since  the  passion  for  the  general  good  is 
undeniably  the  nollest  and  most  extensive  of  all  others,  when  it  was 
once  resolved  to  ])lace  virtue  in  Sinyone  thing^  there  remained  little  room 
to  hesitate  which  should  bo  preferred.  It  might  have  been  worth  while 
to  reflect,  that  in  the  natural  world  there  are  two  kinds  of  attraction ; 
one,  which  holds  the  several  parts  of  individual  bodies  in  contact ; an- 
other, which  maintains  the  union  of  bodies  themselves  with  the  general 
system : and  that,  though  the  union  in  the  former  case  is  much  more 
intimate  than  in  the  latter,  each  is  equally  essential  to  the  order  of  the 
world.  Similar  to  this  is  the  relation  which  the  public  and  private  aflec- 
tions  bear  to  each  other,  and  their  use  in  the  moral  system. 

1 “Friendship,  founded  on  the  principles  of  worldly  morality,  recog- 
nized by  virtuous  heathens,  such  as  that  which  subsisted  between  Atti- 
cus  and  Cicero — which  the  last  of  these  illustrious  men  had  rendered 
immortal — is  fitted  to  survive  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life ; but  it 
belongs  only  to  a union  founded  on  religion,  to  continue  through  an  end-  , 
less  duration.  The  former  of  these  stood  the  shock  of  confiicting  opin-  \ 
ions,  and  of  a revolution  that  shook  the  world ; the  latter  is  destined  to  j 
survive  when  the  heavens  are  no  more,  and  to  spring  fresh  from  the  / 
ashes  of  the  universe.  The  former  possessed  all  the  stability  which  is  / 
possible  to  sublunary  things ; the  latter  partakes  of  the  eternity  of  God.  ] 
Friendship,  founded  on  worldly  principles,  is  natural^  and,  though  com- 
'posed  of  the  best  elements  of  nature,  is  not  exempt  from  its  mutability  1 
and  frailty ; the  latter  is  spiritual^  and,  therefore,  unchanging  and  im- 
perishable. The  friendship  which  is  founded  on  kindred  tastes  and 
congenial  habits,  apart  from  piety,  is  permitted  by  the  benignity  of 
Providence  to  embellish  a world,  which,  with  all  its  magnificence  and 
beauty,  will  shortly  pass  away ; that  which  has  religion  for  its  basis,  will 
ere  long  be  transplanted,  in  order  to  adorn  the  paradise  of  Gk)d.’^ — ^ 
Robert  Hall’s  “ Sermon  on  the  death  of  Dr.  Ryland.” 


32 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


able,  those  among  whom  they  happen  are  bonnd  together  in 
close  association. 

But  when  you  view  every  thing  with  reason  and  reflection, 
of  all  connections  none  is  more  weighty,  none  is  more  dear, 
than  that  between  every  individual  and  his  country.  Our 
parents  are  dear  to  us  ; our  children,  our  kinsmen,  our  friends, 
are  dear  to  us  ; but  our  country  comprehends  alone  all  the 
endearments  of  us  all.  For  which  what  good  man  wouia 
hesitate  to  die  if  he  could  do  her  service  ? The  more  execrably 
unnatural,  therefore,  are  they  who  wound  their  country  by 
every  species  of  guilt,  and  who  are  now,  and  have  been,  em- 
ployed in  her  utter  destruction.  But  w^ere  a computation  or 
comparison  set  up,  of  those  objects  to  which  our  chief  duty 
should  be  paid,  the  principal  are  our  country  and  our  parents, 
by  whose  services  we  are  laid  under  the  s’  rongest  obligations  ; 
the  next  are  our  children  and  entire  family,  who  depend  upon 
us  alone,  without  having  any  other  refuge  ; the  next  our  agree- 
able kinsmen,  who  generally  share  our  fortune  in  common.  The 
necessary  supports  of  life,  therefore,  are  due  chiefly  to  those  I have 
already  mentioned ; but  the  mutual  intercourses  of  life,  counsels, 
discourses,  exhortations,  consultations,  and  even  sometimes  re- 
proofs, flourish  chiefly  in  friendships,  and  those  friendships  are 
the  most  agreeable  that  are  cemented  by  a similarity  of  manners. 

XYin.  But  in  performing  all  these  duties  we  are  care- 
fully to  consider  what  is  most  necessary  to  each,  and  what 
every  one  of  them  could  or  could  not  attain  even  without  us. 
Thus  the  relative  claims  of  relationship  and  of  circumstances 
will  not  always  be  identical.  Some  duties  are  owing  to  some 
more  than  to  others.  For  instance,  you  are  sooner  to  help 
your  neighbor  to  house  his  corn,  than  your  brother  or  your 
friend ; but  if  a cause  be  on  trial,  you  are  to  take  part  with 
your  kinsman,  or  your  friend,  rather  than  with  your  neigh- 
bor. These  considerations,  therefore,  and  the  like,  ought  to  bo 
carefully  observed  in  every  duty;  and  custom  and  practice 
should  be  attained,  that  we  may  be  able  to  be  correct  assessors  of 
our  duties,  and,  by  adding  or  subtracting,  to  strike  the  balance,  by 
which  we  may  see  the  proportion  to  which  every  party  is  entitled. 

But  as  neither  physicians,  nor  generals,  nor  orators,  how- 
ever perfect  they  may  be  in  the  theory  of  their  art,  can  ever 
perform  any  thing  that  is  highly  praise wortliy,  without  expe- 
rience and  practice,  so  rules  have  indeed  been  laid  dov»ui  for  t he 


CHAP.  XIX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


33 


observation  of  duties,  as  I myself  am  doing ; but  the  import- 
ance of  the  matter  demands  experience  and  practice.  I have 
now,  I think,  sufficiently  treated  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
honestum^  which  gives  the  fitness  to  our  duties,  arises  from 
those  matters  that  come  within  the  rights  of  human  society. 

It  must  be  understood,  however,  at  the  same  time,  that 
when  the  four  springs  from  which  virtue  and  honesty  arise 
are  laid  open,  that  which  is  done  with  a lofty  spirit,  and  one 
which  scorns  ordinary  interests,  appears  the  most  noble. 
Therefore  the  most  natural  of  all  reproaches  is  somewhat  of 
the  following  kind : — 

Young  men,  ye  carry  but  the  souls  of  women ; 

That  woman  of  a man. 

Or  somewhat  of  the  following  kind  : — 

Salmacis,  give  me  spoils  without  toil  or  danger. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  our  praises,  I know  not  how  it  is,  but 
actions  performed  with  magnanimity,  with  fortitude,  and 
virtue,  we  eulogize  in  a loftier  style.  From  hence  Marathon, 
Salamis,  Platsea,  Thermopylae,  Leuctra,  have  become  the  field 
of  rhetoricians ; and  among  ourselves.  Codes,  the  Decii,  the 
two  Scipios,  Cneius  and  Publius,  Marcus  Marcellus,  and  a 
great  many  others.  Indeed,  the  Eoman  people  in  general 
are  distinguished  above  all  by  elevation  of  spirit ; and  their 
fondness  for  military  glory  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  we 
generally  see  their  statues  dressed  in  warlike  habits. 

XIX.  But  that  magnanimity  which  is  discovered  in  toils 
and  dangers,  if  it  be  devoid  of  justice,  and  contend  not  for 
the  public  good,  but  for  selfish  interest,  is  blamable ; for, 
so  far  from  being  a mark  of  virtue,  it  is  rather  that  of  a 
barbarity  which  is  repulsive  to  * all  humanity.  By  the  Stoics, 
therefore,  fortitude  is  rightly  defined,  when  they  call  it 
‘‘valor  fighting  on  the  side  of  justice.”  Xo  man,  there- 
fore, who  has  acquired  the  reputation  of  fortitude,  attained 
his  glory  by  deceit  and  malice  ; for  nothing  that  is  devoid  of 
justice  can  be  a virtue. 

It  is,  therefore,  finely  said  by  Plato,  that  not  only  the 
knowledge  that  is  apart  from  justice  deserves  the  appellation 
of  cunning  rather  than  wisdom,  but  also  a mind  that  is  ready 
to  encounter  danger,  if  it  is  animated  by  private  interest,  and 

2^ 


34 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


not  public  utility,  deserves  the  character  of  audaciousness 
rather  than  of  fortitude.  We,  therefore,  require  that  all  men 
of  courage  and  magnanimity  should  be  at  the  same  time 
men  of  virtue  and  of  simplicity,  lovers  of  truth,  and  by 
no  means  deceitful ; for  these  qualities  are  the  main  glory  of 
justice. 

But  there  is  one  painful  consideration,  that  obstinacy,  and 
an  undue  ambition  for  power,  naturally  spring  up  from  this 
elevation  and  greatness  of  spirit ; for,  as  Plato  tells  us,  the 
entire  character  of  the  Lacedsemonians  was  inflamed  with 
the  desire  of  conquest.  Thus  the  man  who  is  most  distin- 
guished by  his  magnanimity,  is  most  desirous  of  being  the 
leading,  or  rather  the  only  potentate  of  all.  Now,  it  is  a 
diflicult  matter,  when  you  desire  to  be  superior  to  all  others, 
to  preserve  that  equability  which  is  the  characteristic  of 
justice.  Hence  it  is  that  such  men  will  not  suffer  themselves 
to  be  thwarted  in  a debate,  nor  by  any  public  and  lawful 
authority ; and  in  public  matters  they  are  commonly  guilty 
of  corruption  and  faction,  in  order  to  grasp  at  as  great 
power  as  possible ; and  they  choose  to  be  superior  by  means 
of  force,  rather  than  equals  by  justice.  But  the  more  diffi- 
cult the  matter  is,  it  is  the  more  glorious;  for  there  is  no 
conjuncture  which  ought  to  be  unconnected  with  justice. 

They,  therefore,  who  oppose,  not  they  who  commit,  in- 
justice are  to  be  deemed  brave  and  magnanimous.  Now, 
genuine  and  well-considered  magnanimity  judges  that  the 
honestum^  which  is  nature’s  chief  aim,  consists  in  realities 
and  not  in  mere  glory,  and  rather  chooses  to  be  than  to 
seem  pre-eminent : for  the  man  who  is  swayed  by  the  prej- 
udices of  an  ignorant  rabble  is  not  to  be  reckoned  among 
the  great ; but  the  man  of  a spirit  the  most  elevated,  through 
the  desire  of  glory,  is  the  most  easily  impelled  into  acts  of 
injustice.  This  is,  indeed,  a slippery  situation;  for  scarcely 
can  there  be  found  a man  who,  after  enduring  trials  and 
encountering  dangers,  does  not  pant  for  popularity  as  the 
reward  of  his  exploits.^ 

1 “It  must  be  strongly  impressed  upon  our  minds,”  says  Dr.  Johnson, 
“ that  virtue  is  not  to  be  pursued  as  one  of  the  means  to  fame,  but  fame 
to  be  accepted  as  the  only  recompense  which  mortals  can  bestow  on 
virtue — ^to  be  accepted  with  complacency,  but  not  sought  with  eager- 
ness. The  true  satisfaction  which  is  to  bo  drawn  from  the  consciousness 


CHAP.  XX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


35 


XX.  A spirit  altogether  brave  and  elevated  is  chiefly  dis- 
cernible by  two  characters.  The  first  consists  in  a low  estimate 
of  mere  outward  circumstances,  since  it  is  convinced  that  a 
man  ought  to  admire,  desire,  or  court  nothing  but  wliat  is 
virtuous  and  becoming ; and  that  he  ought  to  succumb  to  no 
man,  nor  to  any  perturbation  either  of  spirit  or  fortune.^ 
The  other  thing  is,  that  possessed  of  such  a spirit  as  I have 
just  mentioned,  you  should  perform  actions  which  are  great 
and  of  the  greatest  utility,  but  extremely  arduous,  full  of 
difficulties  and  danger  both  to  life  and  the  many  things 
which  pertain  to  life. 

In  the  latter  of  those  two  characters  consist  all  the  glory, 
the  majesty,  and,  I add,  the  utility ; but  the  causes  and  the 
efficient  means  that  form  great  men  is  in  the  former,  which 
contains  the  principles  that  elevate  the  soul,  and  gives  it  a 
contempt  for  temporary  considerations.  Xow,  this  very  excel- 
lence consists  in  two  particulars : you  are  to  deem  that  only  to 
be  good  that  is  virtuous  ; and  that  you  ^be  free  from  all  mental 
irregularity.  For  we  are  to  look  upon  it  as  the  character  of 
a noble  and  an  elevated  soul,  to  slight  all  those  considerations 
that  the  generality  of  mankind  account  great  and  glorious, 
and  to  despise  them,  upon  firm  and  durable  principles ; while 
strength  of  mind,  and  greatness  of  resolution,  are  discerned  in 
bearing  those  calamities  which,  in  the  course  of  man’s  life, 
are  many  and  various,  so  as  not  to  be  driven  from  your  nat- 
ural disposition,  nor  from  the  dignity  of  a wise  man : for 
it  is  not  consistent  that  he  who  is  not  subdued  by  fear  should 
be  subjugated  by  passion ; nor  that  he  who  has  shown  him- 
self invincible  by  toil,  should  be  conquered  by  pleasure.^ 
Wherefore,  we  ought  to  watch  and  avoid  the  love  of  money : 

that  we  shall  share  the  attention  of  future  times,  must  arise  from  the 
hope  that  with  our  name  our  virtues  will  be  propagated,  and  that  those 
whom  we  can  not  benefit  in  our  lives  may  receive  instruction  from  our 
examples,  and  incitement  from  our  renown.” — Rambler. 

1 “It  is  the  business  of  moralists  to  detect  the  frauds  of  fortune,  and 
to  show  that  she  imposes  upon  the  careless  eye  by  a quick  succession  of 
shadows,  which  will  sink  to  nothing  in  the  gripe ; that  she  disguises  life 
in  extrinsic  ornaments,  which  serve  only  for  show,  and  are  laid  aside  in 
the  hours  of  solitude  and  of  pleasure ; and  that  when  greatness  aspires 
either  to  felicity  or  to  wisdom,  it  shakes  off  those  distinctions  which 
dazzle  tho  gazer  and  awe  the  suppliant.” — Dr.  Johnson. 

2 “ Be  not  a Hercules  furens  abroad,  and  a poltroon  within  thyself. 
Xo  chase  our  enemies  out  of  the  field,  and  be  led  captive  by  our  vices ; 


S6 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


for  nothing  so  truly  characterizes  a narrow,  groveling  dispo- 
sition as  to  love  riches  and  nothing  is  more  noble  and  more 
exalted  than  to  despise  riches  if  you  have  them  not,  and  il 
you  have  them,  to  employ  them  in  beneficence  and  liber- 
ality."  _ 

An  inordinate  passion  for  glory,  as  I have  already  ob- 
served, is  likewise  to  be  guarded  against ; for  it  deprives  us 
of  liberty,  the  only  prize  for  which  men  of  elevated  senti- 
ments ought  to  contend.  Power  is  so  far  from  being  desirable 
in  itself,  that  it  sometimes  ought  to  be  refused,  and  some- 
times to  be  resigned.  We  should  likewise  be  free  from  all 
disorders  of  the  mind,  from  all  violent  passion  and  fear,  as 
well  as  languor,  voluptuousness,  and  anger,  that  we  may 
possess  that  tranquillity  and  security  which  confer  alike 
consistency  and  dignity.  I^ow,  many  there  are,  and  have 
been,  who,  courting  that  tranquillity  which  I have  mentioned 
here,  have  withdrawn  themselves  from  public  affairs  and  taken 
refuge  in  retirement.  Among  these,  some  of  the  noblest 
and  most  leading  of  our  philosophers  f and  some  persons, 
of  strict  and  grave  dispositions,  were  unable  to  bear  with 
the  manners  either  of  the  people  or  their  rulers ; and  some 
have  lived  in  the  country,  amusing  themselves  with  the 
management  of  their  private  affairs.  Their  aim  was  the 
same  as  that  of  the  powerful,  that  they  might  enjoy  their 
liberty,  without  w^anting  any  thing  or  obeying  any  person; 
for  the  essence  of  liberty  is  to  live  just  as  you  please. 

to  beat  down  our  foes,  and  fall  down  to  our  concupiscences,  are  solecisms 
in  moral  schools,  and  no  laurel  attends  them.” — Sir  Thomas  Browne’s 
“ Christian  Morals.” 

1 “ To  me  avarice  seems  not  so  much  a vice  as  a deplorable  piece  of 
madness.  To  conceive  ourselves  urinals,  or  be  persuaded  that  we  are 
dead,  is  not  so  ridiculous,  nor  so  many  degrees  beyond  the  power  of 
hellebore,  as  this.  The  opinions  of  theory,  and  positions  of  men,  are  not 
so  void  of  reason  as  their  practiced  conclusions.  Some  have  held  that 
snow  is  black,  that  the  earth  moves,  that  the  soul  is  air,  fire,  water ; but 
all  this  is  philosophy,  and  there  is  no  delirium  if  we  do  but  speculate  the 
folly  and  indisputable  dotage  of  avarice  to  that  subterraneous  idol  and  god 
of  the  earth.” — Sir  Thomas  Browne’s  Religio  Medici.” 

2 “ A reader,  of  very  ordinary  erudition,”  says  Guthrie,  “ may  easily 
perceive  how  greatly  the  best  historians  and  poets  among  the  Romans 
were  indebted  to  this  and  the  foregoing  chapter,  which  have  served  as  a 
commonplace  for  their  finest  sentiments.” 

3 Such  are  Pythagoras,  Democritus,  Anaxagoras,  Socrates,  Plata 
Aristotle,  Zeno,  Epicurus,  etc. 


CHAP.  XXI. 


CICERO’S  OEFICES. 


37 


XXL  Therefore,  as  the  object  of  those  who  are  ambitious 
for  power,  and  of  those  who  court  retirement,  and  whom  I 
have  just  now  described,  is  the  same,  the  former  imagine 
that  they  can  attain  it  if  they  are  possessed  of  great  resources, 
and  the  latter,  if  they  can  be  contented  with  their  own, 
and  with  little.  In  this  matter  the  sentiments  of  neither  are 
to  be  absolutely  rejected.  But  a life  of  retirement  is  more 
easy,  more  safe,  less  tiresome,  and  less  troublesome  than  any 
other ; while  the  life  of  those  who  apply  themselves  to  the 
affairs  of  government,  and  to  the  management  of  a state, 
is  more  beneficial  to  mankind,  and  more  conducive  to  glory 
and  renown. 

Allowances,  therefore,  are  to  be  made  for  those  who  having 
no  management  in  public  matters,  with  an  excellent  genius, 
give  themselves  up  to  learning;  and  to  those  who  being 
hindered  by  feebleness  of  health,  or  for  some  very  weighty 
reason,  retire  from  affairs  of  government,  and  leave  to  others 
the  power  and  the  honor  of  the  administration ; but  when 
men,  who  have  no  such  excuses,  say  that  they  despise  that 
power  and  those  offices  which  most  admire,  such  men  are 
so  far  from  deserving  praise  that  they  incur  censure.  It  is 
difficult  to  condemn  their  judgment  in  despising  and  under- 
valuing popularity;  but  then  they  seem  to  dread  the  toils 
and  troubles  of  affronts  and  repulses  as  involving  ignominy 
and  infamy.  For  some  there  are  who,  in  opposite  matters, 
are  very  inconsistent  with  themselves ; they  spurn  most 
rigidly  at  pleasure,  but  they  droop  in  pain ; they  despise 
glory,  but  sink  under  unpopularity ; and  that,  too,  with  no 
little  inconsistency. 

But  the  men  who  inherit  from  nature  appliances  for 
government  ought,  laying  aside  all  excuses,  to  undertake  the 
discharge  of  all  public  offices  and  the  management  of  state 
affairs  ; for  neither  can  a state  be  governed,  nor  can  magnan- 
imity display  itself,  by  any  other  means.  I am  not,  however, 
sure  whether  those  who  undertake  the  management  of  public 
affairs  ought  not  to  be  equally  distinguished  by  magnanimity 
as  philosophers,  if  not  more  so,  and  impresssd  with  a con- 
tempt of  common  affairs  and  to  possess  that  tranquillity, 
that  calm  of  mind,  I have  so  much  recommended ; I mean, 
if  they  wish  to  live  without  anxiety,  with  dignity  and 
consistency. 


38 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


This  may  be  the  more  easily  practiced  by  philosophers, 
because  in  their  lives  there  is  less  exposed  for  fortune  to 
strike  at ; because  their  necessities  are  more  contracted ; and 
because,  if  any  thing  adverse  should  happen,  they  can  not  fall 
so  heavily.  It  is  not,  therefore,  without  reason,  that  in  the 
mind  of  those  who  undertake  the  management  of  public 
affairs,  more  violent  passions  are  excited,  and  mightier  mat- 
ters are  to  be  attempted,  than  by  those  who  are  retired ; 
they,  therefore,  ought  to  possess  greater  elevation  of  spirit, 
and  freedom  from  disquiets.  But,  whoever  enters  upoa  public 
life  ought  to  take  care  that  the  question,  how  far  tlie  measure 
is  virtuous,  be  not  his  sole  consideration,  but  also  how  far 
he  may  have  the  means  of  carrying  it  into  execution.  In 
this  he  is  chiefly  to  take  care  that  through  indolence  he  do 
not  meanly  despond,  nor  through  eagerness  too  much  pre- 
sume. Thus,  in  all  affairs,  before  you  undertake  them,  a 
diligent  preparation  should  be  entered  into. 

XXII.  But,  since  most  persons  are  of  opinion  that  the 
achievements  of  war  are  more  glorious  than  civil  affairs, 
this  judgment  needs  to  be  restricted ; for  many,  as  generally 
is  the  case  with  high  minds  and  enterprising  spirits,  espe- 
cially if  they  are  adapted  to  military  life  and  are  fond  of 
warlike  achievements,  have  often  sought  opportunities  of 
war  from  their  fondness  for  glory ; but  if  we  are  willing  to 
judge  truly,  many  are  the  civil  employments  of  greater  im- 
portance, and  of  more  renown,  than  the  military. 

For  though  Themistocles  is  justly  praised — ^his  name  is 
now  more  illustrious  than  that  of  Solon,  and  his  glorious 
victory  at  Salamis  is  mentioned  preferably  to  the  policy  of 
Solon,  by  which  he  first  confirmed  the  power  of  the  Areopagus 
— the  one  should  not  be  considered  more  illustrious  than 
the  other  ; for  the  one  availed  his  country  only  for  once — the 
other  is  lastingly  advantageous ; because  by  it  the  laws  of 
the  Athenians,  and  the  institutions  of  their  ancestors,  are 
preserved.  Xow,  Themistocles  could  not  have  stated  any 
respect  in  which  he  benefited  the  Areopagus,  but  the  former 
might  with  truth  declare  that  Themistocles  had  been  advan- 
taged by  him  ; for  the  war  was  carried  on  by  the  counsels  of 
that  senate  which  was  constituted  by  Solon. 

We  may  make  the  same  observation  with  regard  to 
Pausanias  and  Lysander  among  the  Lacedaemonians;  for  all 


CHAP.  XXII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


39 


the  addition  of  empire  which  their  conquests  are  supposed  to 
have  brought  to  their  country  is  not  to  be  compared  to  the 
laws  and  economy  of  Lycurgus ; for  indeed,  owing  to  these 
very  causes  they  had  armies  more  subordinate  and  courageous. 
In  my  eyes,  Marcus  Scaurus  (who  flourished  when  I was  but 
a boy)  was  not  inferior  to  Gains  Marius ; nor,  after  I came 
to  have  a concern  in  the  government,  Quintus  Catulus  to 
Cneius  Pompey.  An  army  abroad  is  but  of  small  service 
unless  there  be  a wise  administration  at  home.  Nor  did 
that  good  man  and  great  general,  Africanus,  perform  a more 
important  service  to  his  country  when  he  razed  Numantia, 
than  did  that  private  citizen,  P.  Nasica,  when  at  the  same 
period  he  killed  Tiberius  Gracchus.  An  action  which  it 
is  true  was  not  merely  of  a civil  nature ; for  it  approaches 
to  a military  character,  as  being  the  result  of  force  and 
courage ; but  it  was  an  action  performed  without  an  army, 
and  from  political  considerations. 

That  state  described  by  the  following  line  is  best  for  a 
country,  for  which  I understand  that  I am  abused  by  the 
wicked  and  malicious : 

Arms  to  the  gown,  and  laurels  yield  to  lore.^ 

For,  not  to  mention  other  persons,  when  I was  at  the 
helm  of  government  did  not  “ arms  yield  to  the  gown 
For  never  did  our  country  know  a time  of  more  threatening 
danger  or  more  profound  tranquillity ; so  quickly,  through 
my  counsel  and  my  diligence,  did  the  arms  of  our  most  prof- 
ligate fellow  citizens  drop  of  themselves  out  of  their  hands. 
What  so  great  exploit  as  this  was  ever  performed  in  war, 
or  what  triumph  can  be  compared  with  it  ? 

The  inheritance  of  my  glory  and  the  imitation  of  my 
actions  are  to  descend  to  you,  my  son  Marcus,  therefore  it 
is  allowable  for  me  to  boast  in  writing  to  you.  It  is,  how- 
ever, certain  that  Pompey,  who  was  possessed  of  much 
military  glory,  paid  this  tribute  to  me,  in  the  hearing  of 
many,  that  in  vain  would  he  have  returned  to  his  third 
triumph,  had  not  my  public  services  preserved  the  place 
in  which  he  was  to  celebrate  it.  The  examples  of  civil 

^ Orig.  Cedant  arma  iogce^  concedat  laurea  Unguce.  The  author  is 
here  speaking  of  his  conduct  in  suppressing  Catiline’s  conspiracy 


40 


CICERO’S  OEFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


courage  are  therefore  no  less  meritorious  than  those  of  mili- 
tary ; and  they  require  a greater  share  of  zeal  and  labor  than 
the  latter. 

XXIII.  Xow  all  that  excellence  which  springs  from  a 
lofty  and  noble  nature  is  altogether  produced  by  the  mental 
and  not  by  the  corporeal  powers.^  Meanwhile,  the  body 
ought  to  be  kept  in  such  action  and  order,  as  that  it  may  be 
always  ready  to  obey  the  dictates  of  reason  and  wisdom,  in 
carrying  them  into  execution,  and  in  persevering  under 
hardships.  But  with  regard  to  that  honestum  we  are  treating 
of,  it  consists  wholly  in  the  thoughtful  application  of  the 
mind ; by  which  the  civilians  who  preside  over  public  affairs 
are  equally  serviceable  to  their  country  as  they  who  wage 
w^ars.  For  it  often  happens  that  by  such  counsels  wars  are 
either  not  entered  into,  or  they  are  brought  to  a termination ; 
sometimes  they  are  even  undertaken,  as  the  third  Punic  war 
was  by  the  advice  of  Marcus  Cato,  whose  authority  was 
powerful,  even  after  he  was  dead. 

Wisdom  in  determining  is  therefore  preferable  to 
courage  in  fighting ; but  in  this  we  are  to  take  care  that  we 

^ “As  a previous  observation,  it  is  beyond  all  doubt  that  very  much 
depends  on  the^  constitution  of  the  body.  It  would  be  for  physiologists 
to  explain,  if  it  were  explicable,  the  manner  in  which  corporeal  organ- 
ization affects  the  mind.  I only  assume  it  as  a fact,  that  there  is  in  the 
material  construction  of  some  persons,  much  more  than  of  others,  some 
quality  which  augments,  if  it  do  not  create,  both  the  stability  of  their 
resolution  and  the  energy  of  their  active  tendencies.  There  is  some- 
thing that,  like  the  ligatures  which  one  class  of  the  Olympic  combatants 
bound  on  their  hands  and  wrists,  braces  round,  if  I may  so  describe  it, 
and  compresses  the  powers  of  the  mind,  giving  them  a steady  forcible 
spring  and  reaction,  which  they  would  presently  lose  if  they  could  be 
transferred  into  a constitution  of  soft,  yielding,  treacherous  debility.  The 
action  of  strong  character  seems  to  demand  something  firm  in  its  material 
basis,  as  massive  engines  require,  for  their  weight  and  for  their  working, 
to  be  fixed  on  a solid  foundation.  Accordingly,  I believe  it  would  bo 
found  that  a majority  of  the  persons  most  remarkable  for  decisive  char- 
acter have  possessed  great  constitutional  physical  firmness.  I do  not 
mean  an  exemption  from  disease  and  pain,  nor  any  certain  measure  of 
mechanical  strength,  but  a tone  of  vigor,  the  opposite  to  lassitude,  and 
adapted  to  great  exertion  and  endurance.  This  is  clearly  evinced  in  re- 
spect to  many  of  them,  by  the  prodigious  labors  and  deprivations  which 
they  have  borne  in  prosecuting  their  designs.  The  physical  nature  has 
seemed  a proud  ally  of  the  moral  one,  and,  with  a hardness  that  would 
never  shrink,  has  sustained  the  energy  that  could  never  remit.” — Foster’s 
Essays  “On  Decision  of  Character,”  Letter  2. 


CHAP.  XXIII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


41 


are  not  swayed  by  an  aversion  to  lighting  rather  than  by  a 
consideration  of  expediency.^  Now  in  engaging  in  war 
we  ought  to  make  it  appear  that  we  have  no  other  view  but 
peace.  But  the  character  of  a brave  and  resolute  man  is 
not  to  be  ruffled  with  adversity,  and  not  to  be  in  such 
confusion  as  to  quit  his  post,  as  we  say,  but  to  preserve  a 
presence  of  mind,  and  the  exercise  of  reason,  without 
departing  from  his  purpose.  And  while  this  is  the  charac- 
teristic of  a lofty  spirit,  so  this  also  is  that  of  a powerful 
intellect,  namely,  to  anticipate  futurity  in  thought,  and  to 
conclude  beforehand  what  may  happen  on  either  side,  and, 
upon  that,  what  measures  to  pursue,  and  never  be  surprised 
so  as  to  say,  “ I had  not  thought  of  that.”  Such  are  the 
operations  of  a genius,  capacious  and  elevated ; of  such  a 
one  as  relies  on  its  own  prudence  and  counsel  f but  to  rush 

^ See  Raley’s  broad  statement,  that  expediency  is  the  fundamental  test 
of  all  morality. — Book  2,  chap.  6. 

^ The  rarity  of  self-reliance,  notwithstanding  the  commonness  of  tho 
weakness  that  stimulates  it,  is  thus  strikingly  shown  by  the  great  essayist 
above  quoted : “ The  first  prominent  mental  characteristic  of  the  person 
whom  I describe,  is  a complete  confidence  in  his  own  judgment.  It  will, 
perhaps,  be  said  that  this  is  not  so  uncommon  a qualification.  I,  how- 
ever, think  it  is  uncommon.  It  is,  indeed,  obvious  enough  that  almost 
all  men  have  a fiattering  estimate  of  their  own  understanding,  and  that 
as  long  as  this  understanding  has  no  harder  task  than  to  form  opinions 
which  are  not  to  be  tried  in  action,  they  have  a most  self-complacent  as- 
surance of  being  right.  This  assurance  extends  to  the  judgments  which 
they  pass  on  tho  proceedings  of  others.  But  let  them  be  brought  into 
the  necessity  of  adopting  actual  measures  in  an  untried  situation,  where, 
unassisted  by  any  previous  example  or  practice,  they  are  reduced  to  de- 
pend on  the  bare  resources  of  judgment  alone,  and  you  wiU  see  in  many 
cases  this  confidence  of  opinion  vanish  away.  The  mind  seems  all  at 
once  placed  in  a misty  vacuity,  where  it  reaches  round  on  all  sides,  but 
can  find  nothing  to  take  hold  of.  Or  if  not  lost  in  vacuity,  it  is  over- 
whelmed in  confusion ; and  feels  as  if  its  faculties  were  annihilated  in 
the  attempt  to  think  of  schemes  and  calculations  among  the  possibilities, 
chances,  and  hazards  which  overspread  a wide  untrodden  field ; and  this 
conscious  imbecility  becomes  severe  distress,  when  it  is  believed  that  con- 
sequences, of  serious  or  unknown  good  or  evil,  are  depending  on  the  de- 
cisions which  are  to  be  formed  amid  so  much  uncertainty.  The  thought 
painfully  recurs  at  each  step  and  turn,  I may  by  chance  be  right,  but  it 
is  fully  as  probable  I am  wrong.  It  is  like  the  case  of  a rustic  walking 
in  London,  who,  having  no  certain  direction  through  the  vast  confusion 
of  streets  to  the  place  where  he  wishes  to  be,  advances,  and  hesitates, 
and  turns,  and  inquires,  and  becomes,  at  each  corner,  still  more  inextric- 
ably perplexed.  A man  in  this  situation  feels  he  shall  be  very  unfortun- 


42 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


precipitately  into  tlie  field,  and  to  encounter  an  enemy  witli 
mere  physical  force  has  somewhat  in  it  that  is  barbarous  and 
brutal.  When  the  occasion,  however,  and  its  necessity 
compel  it,  we  should  resist  with  force,  and  prefer  death  to 
slavery  or  dishonor. 

XXIV.  But  with  regard  to  overthrowing  and  plundering 
of  cities,  great  consideration  is  required  that  nothing  be  done 
rashly,  nothing  cruelly.^  And  this  is  the  part  of  a great 
man,  after  he  has  maturely  weighed  all  circumstances,  to 
punish  the  guilty,  to  spare  the  many ; and  in  every  state  of 
fortune  not  to  depart  from  an  upright,  virtuous  conduct. 
For,  as  you  find  (as  I have  already  observed)  men  who  prefer 
military  to  civil  duties,  so  will  you  find  many  of  that  cast  who 
look  upon  dangerous  and  violent  resolutions  to  be  more 
splendid  and  more  dignified  than  calm  and  digested  measures. 
We  should  never  so  entirely  avoid  danger  as  to  appear 
irresolute  and  cowardly;  but,  at  the  same  time,  we  should 

ate  if  he  can  not  accomplish  more  than  he  can  understand.  Is  not  this 
frequently,  when  brought  to  the  practical  test,  the  state  of  a mind  not 
disposed  in  general  to  undervalue  its  own  judgment  ?” — Foster’s  Essay 
“ On  Decision  of  Character,”  Letter  2. 

1 “If,”  says  Paley,  “the  cause  and  end  of  war  be  justifiable,  all  the 
means  that  appear  necessary  to  the  end  are  justifiable  also.  This  is  the 
principle  which  defends  those  extremities  to  which  the  violence  of  war 
usually  proceeds ; for,  since  war  is  a contest  by  force  between  parties 
who  acknowledge  no  common  superior,  and  since  it  includes  not  in  its 
idea  the  supposition  of  any  convention  which  should  place  limits  to  the 
operations  of  force,  it  has  naturally  no  boundary  but  that  in  which  force 
terminates — the  destruction  of  the  life  against  which  the  force  is  direct- 
ed. Let  it  be  observed,  however,  that  the  license  of  war  authorizes  no 
acts  of  hostility  but  what  are  necessary  or  conducive  to  the  end  and  ob- 
ject of  the  war.  Gratuitous  barbarities  borrow  no  excuse  from  this  plea  : 
of  which  kind  is  every  cruelty  and  every  insult  that  serves  only  to  exas- 
perate the  sufferings,  or  to  incense  the  hatred,  of  an  enemy,  without 
weakening  his  strength,  or  in  any  manner  tending  to  procure  his  submis- 
sion ; such  as  the  slaughter  of  captives,  the  subjecting  of  them  to  indig- 
nities or  torture,  the  violation  of  women,  the  profanation  of  temples,  the 
demolition  of  public  buildings,  libraries,  statues,  and  in  general  the  de- 
struction or  defacing  of  works  that  conduce  nothing  to  annoyance  or  de- 
fense. These  enormities  are  prohibited  not  only  by  the  practice  of  civil- 
ized nations,  but  by  the  law  of  nature  itself,  as  having  no  proper  tend- 
ency to  accelerate  the  termination,  or  accomplish  the  object  of  the  war, 
and  as  containing  that  which  in  peace  and  war  is  equally  unjustifiable — 
ultimate  and  gratuitous  mischief.” — “ Moral  and  Political  Philosophy,” 
book  6,  chap.  12. 


CHAP.  xxir. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


43 


avoid  unnecessarily  exposing  ourselves  to  danger,  than  which 
nothing  can  be  more  foolish. 

In  encountering  dangers,  therefore,  we  are  to  imitate  the 
practice  of  the  physicians  who  apply  to  gentle  illnesses 
gentle  medicines,  but  are  forced  to  apply  more  desperate  and 
more  doubtful  cures  to  more  dangerous  diseases.  It  is  the 
part  of  a madman  to  wish  for  an  adverse  tempest  in  a calm, 
but  of  a wise  man  to  find  relief  against  the  tempest  by  what- 
ever means ; and  the  rather  if  one  incurs  more  advantage  by 
accomplishing  the  matter  than  disadvantage  by  keeping  it  in 
suspense.  Now  the  conducting  of  enterprises  is  dangerous 
sometimes  to  the  undertakers,  and  sometimes  to  the  state ; 
and  hence  some  are  in  danger  of  losing  their  lives,  some  their 
reputation,  and  some  their  popularity.  But  we  ought  to  be 
more  forward  to  expose  our  own  persons  than  the  general 
interests  to  danger,  and  to  be  more  ready  to  fight  for  honor 
and  reputation  than  for  other  advantages.  i 

Though  many  have  been  known  cheerfully  to  venture  not 
only  their  money  but  their  lives  for  the  public ; yet  those 
very  men  have  refused  to  suffer  the  smallest  loss  of  glory 
even  at  the  request  of  their  country.  For  instance,  Calli- 
cratidas,  who,  after  performing  many  gallant  actions  at  the 
head  of  the  Lacedaemonian  armies,  during  the  Peloponnesian 
war,  at  last  threw  every  thing  into  confusion  by  refusing  to 
obey  the  directions  of  those  who  were  for  removing  the  fleet 
from  Arginusse,  and  not  for  fighting  the  Athenians ; to 
whom  his  answer  was,  that  if  the  Lacedaemonians  lost  that 
fleet  they  could  fit  out  another,  but  that  he  could  not  turn  his 
back  without  dishonor  to  himself.  ’Tis  true,  the  blow  that 
followed  upon  this  was  not  very  severe  to  the  Lacedaemonians ; 
but  it  was  a deadly  one,  when,  from  a fear  of  public  odium, 
Cleombrotus  fought  with  Epamonidas,  and  the  power  of  the 
Lacedaemonians  perished.  How  preferable  was  the  conduct 
of  Quintus  Maximus,  of  whom  Ennius  says : — 

“ The  man'  who  saved  his  country  by  delay, 

No  tales  could  move  him,  and  no  envy  sway; 

And  thus  the  laurels  on  his  honored  brow, 

In  age  shall  flourish,  and  with  time  shall  grow.” 

' The  verses  quoted  here  by  Ennius  seem  to  have  been  in  high  repu- 
tation with  the  Romans ; for  Yirgil  has  borrowed  the  first  of  them,  and 
applied  it,  as  our  author  does,  to  the  conduct  of  Fabius  Maximus  against 
Hannibal. 


44 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


This  is  a species  of  fault  which  ought  also  to  be  avoided 
in  civil  matters ; for  there  are  some  men  who,  from  a dread 
of  unpopularity,  dare  not  express  their  opinions  however 
excellent  they  may  be. 

XXV.  All  who  hope  to  rise  in  a state  ought  strictly  to 
observe  two  rules  of  Plato.  The  first  is,  that  they  so  keep 
in  view  the  advantage  of  their  fellow-citizens  as  to  have 
reference  to  it  in  whatever  they  do,  regardless  of  their  indi- 
vidual interest.^  The  second  is,  that  their  cares  be  applied 
to  the  whole  of  the  state,  lest  while  they  are  cherishing  one 
part  they  abandon  the  others.  For  the  administration  of 
government,  like  a guardianship,  ought  to  be  directed  to  the 
good  of  those  who  confer,  and  not  of  those  who  receive  the 
trust.^  Xow,  they  who  consult  the  interests  of  one  part  of 

1 “ Political  power  is  rightly  exercised  only  when  it  subserves  the  wel- 
fare of  the  community.  The  community,  which  has  the  right  to  with- 
hold power,  delegates  it  of  course  for  its  own  advantage.  If  in  any  case 
its  advantage  is  not  consulted,  then  the  object  for  which  it  was  delegated 
is  frustrated ; or,  in  simple  words,  the  measure  which  does  not  promote 
the  public  welfare  is  not  right.  It  matters  nothing  whether  the  commun- 
ity have  delegated  specifically  so  much  power  for  such  and  such  purposes ; 
the  power,  being  possessed^  entails  the  obligation.  Whether  a sovereign 
derives  absolute  authority  by  inheritance,  or  whether  a president  is  in- 
trusted with  limited  authority  for  a year,  the  principles  of  their  duty  are 
the  same.  The  obligation  to  employ  it  only  for  the  public  good  is  just 
as  real  and  just  as  great  in  one  case  as  in  the  other.  The  Russian  and 
the  Turk  have  the  same  right  to  require  that  the  power  of  their  rulers 
shall  be  so  employed  as  the  Englishman  or  American.  They  may  not 
be  able  to  assert  this  right,  but  that  does  not  affect  its  existence,  nor  the 
ruler’s  duty,  nor  his  responsibility  to  that  Almighty  Being  before  whom 
he  must  give  an  account  of  his  stewardship.  These  reasonings,  if  they 
needed  confirmation,  derive  it  from  the  fact  that  the  Deity  imperatively 
requires  us,  according  to  our  opportunities  to  do  good  to  man.” — Eymond’s 
Essay  3,  cap.  2 

2 “ Political  powers  (says  Dymond)  is  rightly  possessed  only  when  it 
is  possessed  by  the  consent  of  the  community.” — Ibid. 

The  doctrine  of  the  essential  sovereignty  of  the  people,  and  the  dele- 
gated power  of  all  governors  is  thus  laid  down  by  Milton : “ It  is  thus 
manifest  that  the  power  of  kings  and  magistrates  .is  nothing  else  but 
what  is  only  derivative,  transferred,  and  committed  to  them  in  trust  from 
the  people  to  the  common  good  of  them  all,  in  whom  the  power  yet  re- 
mains fundamentally,  and  can  not  be  taken  from  them  without  a viola- 
tion of  their  natural  birthright ; and  from  hence  Aristotle,  and  the  best 
of  political  writers,  have  defined  a king,  ‘ him  who  governs  to  the  good 
and  profit  of  his  people,  and  not  for  his  own  ends.’  ” — Milton’s  “ Tenure 
of  Kings  and  Magistrates.”  And  again : “ It  follows  that  since  the  king 
or  magistrate  holds  his  authority  of  the  people,  both  originally  and  nat- 


CHAP.  XXV. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


45 


a community  and  negle'ct  another,  introduce  into  the  state 
the  greatest  of  all  evils,  sedition  and  discord.  From  this 
partiality  some  seem  to  court  the  people,  some  each  great 
man,  hut  few  the  whole.  Hence  the  great  discords  among 
the  Athenians,  and  in  our  government  not  only  seditions 
but  the  most  destructive  wars,  which  every  worthy  and  brave 
citizen  who  deserves  to  rise  in  the  state  will  avoid  and  de- 
test; he  will  give  himself  entirely  up  to  the  service  of 
his  country,  without  regard  to  riches  or  to  power,  and  ha 
will  watch  over  the  whole  so  as  to  consult  the  good  of  all. 
He  will  even  be  far  from  bringing  any  man  into  hatred  or 
disgrace,  by  ill-grounded  charges,  and  he  will  so  closely 
attach  himself  to  the  rules  of  justice  and  virtue,  that  how- 
ever he  may  give  offense  he  will  preserve  them,  and  incar 
death  itself  rather  than  swerve  from  the  principles  I have 
laid  down. 

Of  all  evils,  ambition  and  the  disputes  for  public  posts  are 
the  most  deplorable.  Plato,  likewise,  on  this  subject,  says 
very  admirably,  “ that  they  who  dispute  for  the  management 
of  a state,  resemble  mariners  wrangling  about  who  should  di- 
rect the  helm.”  He  then  lays  down  as  a rule  that  we  ought 
to  look  upon  those  as  our  enemies  who  take  arms  against 
the  public,  and  not  those  who  want  to  have  public  affairs  di- 
rected by  their  judgment.  For  instance,  Publius  Africanus  and 
Quintus  Metellus  differed  in  opinion,  but  without  animosity. 

^N’or,  indeed,  are  those  to  be  listened  to  who  consider  that 
we  ought  to  cherish  a bitter  resentment  against  our  enemies, 
and  that  this  is  characteristic  of  a high-minded  and  bravo 
man ; for  nothing  is  more  noble,  nothing  more  worthy  of  a 
great  and  a good  man,  than  placability  and  moderation.^ 

urally,  for  their  good  in  the  first  place,  and  not  his  own,  then  may  the 
people,  as  oft  as  they  shall  judge  it  for  the  best,  either  choose  him  or  re- 
ject him,  retain  him  or  depose  him,  though  no  tyrant,  merely  by  the  lib- 
erty and  right  of  free-born  men  to  be  governed  as  seems  to  them  best. 
This,  though  it  can  not  but  stand  with  plain  reason,  shall  be  made  good 
also  by  Scripture : ‘ When  thou  art  come  into  the  land  which  the  Lord 
thy  God  giveth  thee,  and  shalt  say,  I will  set  a king  over  me,  like  as  all 
the  nations  about  me.’ — Deut.  xvii.  14.  These  words  confirm  us  that 
the  right  of  choosing,  yea  of  changing  their  own  government,  is  by  the 
grant  of  God  himself  in  the  people.” — Ibid. 

^ It  is  impossible  not  to  remark  how  far  the  popular  standard  of  dutj^, 
and  the  modern  laws  of  honor,  fall  below  this  high  and  almost  Christian 
morality  of  Cicero. 


46 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I, 


Nay,  amid  free  nations  and  equality  of  rights,  an  equability 
and  loftiness  of  temper  is  necessary,  to  prevent  our  falling 
into  an  idle,  disagreeable  pee^dshness,  when  we  are  irritated 
by  persons  approaching  us  unseasonably,  or  preferring  to  us 
unreasonable  requests.  Yet  this  politeness  and  moderation 
ought  to  be  so  tempered,  that  for  the  sake  of  the  interests  of 
the  state  severity  should  be  employed,  otherwise  public  busi- 
ness could  not  be  carried  on.  Meanwhile,  all  reprimands  and 
punishments  ought  to  be  inflicted  without  abuse,  without  re- 
gard to  the  party  so  punishing  or  reprimanding,  but  to  the 
good  of  the  state. 

We  ought,  likewise,  to  take  care  that  the  punishment  be 
proportioned  to  the  offense,^  and  that  some  be  not  punished 
for  doing  things  for  which  others  are  not  so  much  as  called 
to  account.  Above  all  things,  in  punishing  we  ought  to 
guard  against  passion ; for  the  man  who  is  to  pronounce  a 
sentence  of  punishment  in  a passion,  never  can  preserve  that 
mean  between  what  is  too  much  and  too  little,  which  is  so 
justly  recommended  by  the  Peripatetics,  did  they  not  too 
much  commend  the  passion  of  anger,  by  asserting  it  to  be  a 
useful  property  of  our  nature.  For  my  part,  I think  that  it 
ought  to  be  checked  under  all  circumstances  and  it  were 
to  be  wished  that  they  who  preside  in  government  were  like 

^ “A  slight  perusal  of  the  laws  by  which  the  measures  of  vindictive 
and  coercive  justice  are  established,  will  discover  so  many  disproportions 
between  crimes  and  punishments,  such  capricious  distinctions  of  guilt, 
and  such  confusion  of  remissness  aud  severity,  as  can  scarcely  be  be- 
lieved to  have  been  produced  by  pubUc  wisdom,  sincerely  and  calmly 
studious  of  pubhc  happiness.” — Dr.  Johnson. 

“Be  ye  angry,  and  sin  not therefore,  all  anger  is  not  sinful;  I sup- 
pose because  some  degree  of  it,  and  upon  some  occasions,  is  inevitable. 
It  becomes  sinful,  or  contradicts,  however,  the  rule  of  Scripture,  when  it  is 
conceived  upon  slight  and  inadequate  provocation,  and  when  it  continues 
long. — Paley’s  “Moral  and  Political  Philosophy,”  book  3,  chap.  7. 

“From  anger  in  its  full  import,  protracted  into  malevolence,  and  exert- 
ed in  revenge,  arise,  indeed,  many  of  the  evils  to  which  the  life  of  man 
is  exposed.  By  anger  operating  upon  power  are  produced  the  subver- 
sion of  cities,  the  desolation  of  countries,  the  massacre  of  nations,  and 
all  those  dreadful  and  astonishing  calamities  which  fiU  the  histories  of 
the  world,  and  which  could  not  be  read  at  any  distant  point  of  time,  when 
the  passions  stand  neutral,  and  every  motive  and  principle  are  left  to  its 
natural  force,  without  some  doubt  of  the  truth  of  the  relation,  did  wo  not 
see  the  same  causes  still  tending  to  the  same  effects,  and  only  acting  with 
less  vigor  for  want  of  the  same  concurrent  opportunities.” — Dr.  Johnson. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


CHAP.  XXYI. 


47 


the  laws,  which  in  punishing  are  not  directed  by  resentments 
but  by  equity. 

XXVI.  Xow,  during  our  prosperity,  and  while  things  flow 
agreeably  to  our  desire,  we  ought  with  great  care  to  avoid 
pride  and  arrogance ; for,  as  it  discovers  weakness  not  to  bear 
adversity  with  equanimity,  so  also  with  prosperity.  That 
equanimity  in  every  condition  of  life  is  a noble  attribute,  and 
that  uniform  expression  of  countenance  and  appearance  which 
we  find  recorded  of  Socrates,  and  also  of  Caius  Lselius. 
Though  Philip  of  Macedon  was  excelled  by  his  son  in  his 
achievements  and  his  renown,  yet  I find  him  superior  to  him 
in  politeness  and  goodness  of  nature ; the  one,  therefore,  al- 
ways appeared  great,  while  the  other  often  became  detestable. 
So  that  they  appear  to  teach  rightly,  who  admonish  us  that 
the  more  advanced  we  are  in  our  fortune  the  more  aflfable 
ought  we  to  be  in  our  behavior.  Pause tius  tells  us  his 
scholar  and  friend,  Africanus,  used  to  say,  that  as  horses, 
grown  unruly  by  being  in  frequent  engagements,  are  deliv- 
ered over  to  be  tamed  by  horse-breakers,  thus  men,  who  grow 
riotous  and  self-suflicient  by  prosperity,  ought,  as  it  were,  to 
be  exercised  in  the  traverse  of  reason  and  philosophy,  that  they 
may  learn  the  inconstancy  of  human  affairs  and  the  uncertainty 
of  fortune. 

In  the  time  of  our  greatest  prosperity  we  should  also  have 
the  greatest  recourse  to  the  advice  of  our  friends,  and  greater 
authority  should  be  conceded  to  them  than  before.  At  such  a 
time  we  are  to  take  care  not  to  lend  our  ears  to  flatterers,  or  to 
sufier  ourselves  to  be  imposed  upon  by  adulation,  by  w’hich  it 
is  easy  to  be  misled : for  we  then  think  ourselves  such  as  may 
be  justly  praised,  an  opinion  that  gives  rise  to  a thousand 
errors  in  conduct;  because,  when  men  are  once  blown  up 
with  idle  conceits,  they  are  exposed  to  ignominious  rid- 
icule and  led  into  the  greatest  mistakes.  So  much  for  this 
subject. 

One  thing  you  are  to  understand,  that  they  who  regulate 
public  affairs  perform  the  greatest  exploits,  and  such  as 
require  the  highest  style  of  mind,  because  their  business  is 
most  extensive  and  concerns  the  greatest  number.  Yet  there 
are,  and  have  been,  many  men  of  great  capacities,  who  in 
private  life  have  planned  out  or  attempted  mighty  matters, 
and  yet  have  confined  themselves  to  the  limits  of  their  own 


48 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


affairs ; or,  being  thrown  into  a middle  state,  between  philoso- 
phers and  those  who  govern  the  state,  have  amused  themselves 
with  the  management  of  their  private  fortune,  without  swelling 
it  by  all  manner  of  means,  not  debarring  their  friends  from  the 
benefit  of  it,  but  rather,  when  occasion  calls  upon  them,  shar- 
ing it  both  wdth  their  friends  and  their  country.  This  should 
be  originally  acquired  with  honesty,  without  any  scandalous  or 
oppressive  practices  ; it  should  then  be  made  serviceable  to  as 
many  as  possible,  provided  they  be  worthy  ; it  should  next  be 
augmented  by  prudence,  by  industry,  and  frugality,  'svithout 
serving  the  purposes  of  pleasure  and  luxury  rather  than  of  gen- 
erosity and  humanity.  The  man  who  observes  those  niles  may 
live  with  magnificence,  with  dignity,  and  with  spirit,  yet  with 
simplicity  and  honor,  and  agreeably  to  (the  economy  of ) hu- 
man life. 

XXVII.  The  next  thing  is,  to  treat  of  that  remaining  part 
of  virtue  in  which  consist  chastity  and  those  (as  we  may 
term  them)  ornaments  of  life,  temperance,  moderation,  and  all 
that  allays  the  perturbations  of  the  mind.  Under  this  head 
is  comprehended  what  in  Latin  we  may  call  decorum  (or  the 
graceful),  for  the  Greeks  term  it  the  nqenov,  Xow,  its  quality 
is  such  that  it  is  indiscernible  from  the  honestum  ; for  what- 
ever is  graceful  is  virtuous,  and  whatever  is  virtuous  is  grace- 
fal. 

But  it  is  more  easy  to  conceive  than  to  express  the  differ- 
ence between  wLat  is  virtuous  and  what  is  graceful  (or 
between  the  honestum  and  the  decorum) ; for  whatever  is 
graceful  appears  such,  wLen  virtue  is  its  antecedent.  What 
is  graceful,  therefore,  appears  not  only  in  that  division  of 
virtue  which  is  here  treated  of,  but  in  the  three  foregoing 
ones  ; for  it  is  graceful  in  a man  to  think  and  to  speak  with 
j^ropriety,  to  act  with  deliberation,  and  in  every  occurrence 
of  life  to  find  out  and  persevere  in  the  truth.  On  the  other 
hand,  to  be  imposed  upon,  to  mistake,  to  falter,  and  to  bo 
deceived,  is  as  ungraceful  as  to  rave  or  to  be  insane.  Thus, 
whatever  is  just  is  graceful ; whatever  is  unjust  is  as  un- 
graceful as  it  is  criminal.  The  same  principle  applies  to 
courage  ; for  every  manly  and  magnanimous  action  is  worthy 
of  a man,  and  graceful ; the  reverse,  as  being  unworthy,  is  un- 
graceful. 

This,  therefore,  which  I call  gracefulness,  is  a universal 


CHAP.  XXYIII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


49 


property  of  virtue,  and  a property  that  is  self-evident,  and  not 
discerned  by  any  profundity  of  reasoning ; for  there  is  a cer- 
tain gracefulness  that  is  implied  in  every  virtue,  and  which  may 
exist  distinctly  from  virtue,  rather  in  thought  than  in  fact : as 
grace  and  beauty  of  person,  for  example,  can  not  be  separated 
from  health,  so  the  whole  of  that  gracefulness  which  I here 
speak  of  is  blended  with  virtue,  but  may  exist  separately  in  the 
mind  and  in  idea. 

Now,  the  definition  of  this  is  twofojd  : for  there  is  a general 
gracefulness  that  is  the  property  of  all  virtue,  and  that  includes 
another,  which  is  fitted  to  the  particular  divisions  of  virtue. 
The  former  is  commonly  defined  to  be  that  gracefulness  that  is 
conformable  to  that  excellence  of  man,  in  which  he  differs  from 
other  sentient  beings  ; but  the  special,  which  is  comprised  un- 
der the  general,  is  defined  to  be  a gracefulness  so  adapted  to 
nature  as  to  exhibit  propriety  and  sweetness  under  a certain 
elegant  appearance. 

XXVIII.  We  may  perceive  that  these  things  are  so 
understood  from  that  gracefulness  which  is  aimed  at  by  the 
poets,  and  of  which  elsewhere  more  is  wont  to  be  said ; for 
we  say  that  the  poets  observe  that  gracefulness  to  be  when 
a person  speaks  and  acts  in  that  manner  which  is  most 
becoming  his  character.  Thus  if  ^acus  or  Minus  should 
say : 

Let  them  hate  me,  so  they  fear  me ; 

Or — 

The  father’s  belly  is  his  children’s  grave, 

it  would  seem  unsuitable,  because  we  know  them  to  have  been 
just  persons  ; but  when  said  by  an  Atreus,  they  are  received 
with  applause,  because  the  speech  is  worthy  of  the  character. 
Now,  poets  will  form  their  judgment  of  what  is  becoming  in 
each  individual  according  to  his  character  ; but  nature  herself 
has  stamped  on  us  a character  in  excellence  greatly  surpassing 
the  rest  of  the  animal  creation. 

Poets,  therefore,  in  their  vast  variety  of  characters,  consider 
what  is  proper  and  what  is  becoming,  even  in  the  vicious  : but 
as  nature  herself  has  cast  to  us  our  parts  in  constancy,  modera- 
tion, temperance,  and  modesty ; as  she,  at  the  same  time,  in- 
structs us  not  to  be  unmindful  how  we  should  behave  to  man- 
kind, the  effect  is,  that  the  extent  both  of  that  gracefulness 

3 


50 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  L 


which  is  the  general  property  of  all  virtue,  and  of  that  par- 
ticular gracefulness  that  is  adapted  to  every  species  of  it,  is 
discovered.  For  as  personal  beauty,  by  wie  symmetrical  dis- 
position of  the  limbs,  attracts  our  attention  and  pleases  the 
eye,  by  the  harmony  and  elegance  with  which  each  part  cor- 
responds to  another,  so  that  gracefulness  which  manifests  ifeelf 
in  life,  attracts  the  approbation  of  those  among  whom  we  live,  by 
the  order,  consistency,  and  modesty  of  all  our  words  and  deeds. 

There  is,  therefore,  a degree  of  respect  due  from  us,  suited 
to  every  man’s  character,  from  the  best  to  the  worst : for  it 
is  not  only  arrogant,  but  it  is  profligate,  for  a man  to  disre- 
gard the  world’s  opinion  of  himself ; but,  in  our  estimate  of 
human  life,  we  are  to  make  a difierence  between  justice  and 
moral  susceptibility.^  The  dictate  of  justice  is  to  do  no 

^ Justice  and  moral  susceptihility.']  Orig.  Justiciam  et  verecundiam. 
This  is  a very  fine  passage,  and  deserves  to  be  explained.  Verecundia  is 
commonly  translated  bashfulness  or  modesty ; but  in  the  sense  of  our  au- 
thor here,  neither  of  these  two  words  will  do ; nor  am  I sure  that  the 
word  decency,  or  any  word  in  the  English  tongue,  comes  fully  up  to  his 
meaning,  which  is,  an  inborn  reverence  for  what  is  right,  and  which  sup- 
plies the  place  of,  and  sometimes  controls,  the  law.  Many  actions  may 
be  agreeable  to  law,  and  yet  disagreeable  to  this  inborn  principle.  The 
tragedian  Seneca  has  distinguished  them  very  finely.  He  brings  in 
Pyrrhus,  saying, 

Pyr.  Lex  nuUa  capto  parcit  aut  poenam  impedit. 

To  this  Agamemnon  replies, 

Ag.  Quod  non  vetat  lex,  hoc  vetat  fieri  pudor. 

Pyr.  “Ho  law  exempts  a captive  from  the  sword.” 

Ag,  “Where  the  law  does  not,  moral  duties  bind.” 

Our  author  inculcates  the  same  principles  in  many  other  parts  of  his 
works ; and  it  was  afterward  admitted  by  J ustinian  into  his  Institutes. 
“Fide  commissa  appeUata  sunt,  quia  nullo  vinculo  juris,  sed  tantum  pu- 
dore  eorum  qui  rogabantur,  continebantur.  ” “ Deeds  of  trust  were  so 

called,  because  the  party  intrusted  was  not  obligated  by  law,  but  by  con- 
science or  morality.”  Ovid  has  a very  noble  sentiment,  which  he  seems 
to  have  taken  from  our  author  and  from  Plato. 

Nondum  justiciam  facinus  mortale  fugarat. 

Ultima  de  superis  ilia  reliquit  humum  ; 

Proque  metu,  populum,  sine  vi,  pudor  ipse  regebat. 

“ Hor  justice  yet  had  fled  from  human  crimes. 

Of  all  their  godheads  she  the  last  remained ; 

For  awful  conscience,  in  those  happy  times. 

Ruled  without  fear,  and  without  force  restrained.” 

Verecundia  or  'pudor ^ therefore,  is  properly  an  inward  abhorrence  of 


CHAP.  xxvm. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


51 


wrong ; that  of  moral  susceptibility  is  to  give  no  offense  to 
mankind,  and  in  this  the  force  of  the  graceful  is  most  percept- 
ible. By  these  explanations  I conceive  that  what  we  mean  by 
the  graceful  and  becoming  may  be  understood. 

Now  the  duty  resulting  from  this  has  a primary  tendency 
to  and  agreement  with  and  conservation  of  our  nature ; and 
if  we  follow  it  as  a guide  we  never  shall  err,  but  shall  attain 

moral  turpitude,  through  which  the  conscience  is  awed,  and  may  be  said 
to  blush.  Plato,  and  from  him  Plutarch,  makes  justice  and  this  verecun- 
dia  to  be  inseparable  companions.  “ God  (says  the  former),  being  afraid 
lest  the  human  race  should  entirely  perish  upon  earth,  gave  to  mankind 
justice  and  moral  susceptibility,  those  ornaments  of  states  and  the  bonds 
of  society.” 

It  is  on  the  possession  of  this  moral  susceptibility,  anterior  to  and  in- 
dependent of  human  laws,  that  Bishop  Butler  founds  his  ethical  system. 
Thus  he  says  of  man,  that  “ from  his  make,  constitution,  or  nature,  he 
is,  in  the  strictest  and  most  proper  sense,  a law  to  himself;”  that  “he 
hath  the  rule  of  right  within,”  and  that  “what  is  wanting  is  only  that  he 
honestly  attend  to  it ;”  and,  in  enforcing  the  authority  of  this  natural 
monitor,  “your  obligation  to  obey  this  law  is  its  being  the  law  of  your 
nature.  That  your  conscience  approves  of  and  attests  to  such  a course 
of  action  is  itself  alone  an  obligation.  Conscience  does  not  only  offer 
itself  to  show  us  the  way  we  should  walk  in,  but  it  likewise  carries  its 
own  authority  with  it,  that  it  is  our  natural  guide — the  guide  assigned 
ns  by  the  Author  of  our  nature.  It,  therefore,  belongs  to  our  condition 
of  being ; it  is  our  duty  to  walk  in  that  path,  and  to  follow  this  guide, 
without  looking  about  to  see  whether  we  may  not  possibly  forsake  them 
with  impunity.”  It  is  with  a like  reference  that  Lord  Bacon  says : — > 
“ The  light  of  nature  not  only  shines  wpon  the  human  mind  through  the 
medium  of  a rational  faculty,  but  by  an  internal  instinct,  according  to 
the  law  of  conscience,  which  is  a sparkle  of  the  purity  of  man’s  first 
estate.”  But  a parallel  passage  from  the  pen  of  Cicero  himself,  affords  a 
still  fuller  and  loftier  enunciation  of  this  principle : — “ There  is,  indeed, 
one  true  and  original  law,  conformable  to  reason  and  to  nature,  diffused 
over  all,  invariable,  eternal,  which  calls  to  the  fulfillment  of  duty  and  to 
abstinence  from  injustice,  and  which  calls  with  that  irresistible  voice 
which  is  felt  in  all  its  authority  wherever  it  is  heard.  This  law  can  not 
be  abolished  or  curtailed,  nor  affected  in  its  sanctions  by  any  law  of  man. 
A whole  senate,  a whole  people,  can  not  dispense  from  its  paramount 
obhgation.  It  requires  no  commentator  to  render  it  distinctly  intelligible, 
nor  is  it  different  at  Rome,  and  at  Athens,  at  the  present,  and  in  ages  to 
come ; but  in  all  times  and  in  all  nations,  it  is,  and  has  been,  and  will 
be,  one  and  everlasting — one  as  that  God,  its  great  Author  and  promul- 
gator, who  is  the  common  sovereign  of  all  mankind,  is  himself  one.  No 
man  can  disobey  it  without  flying,  as  it  were,  from  his  own  bosom  and 
repudiating  his^  nature,  and  in  this  very  act  will  inflict  on  himself  the 
severest  of  retributions,  even  though  ho  escape  what  is  commonly  re* 
garded  as  punishment.” 


52 


CICERO’S  OEEICES. 


BOOK  I. 


to  tliat  natural  excellence  which  consists  in  acuteness  and 
sagacity,  to  that  which  is  best  adapted  to  human  society,  and  to 
that  which  is  energetic  and  manly.^  But  the  chief  force  of  the 
graceful  lies  in  that  suitableness  of  which  I am  now  treating. 
For  not  only  those  emotions  of  a physical  kind,  but  still  more 
those  of  the  mind  are  to  be  approved  as  they  are  comformable 
to  nature.  For  the  nature  and  powers  of  the  mind  are  two- 
fold ; one  consists  in  appetite,  by  the  Greeks  called  oQfxrj  e. 
impulse),  which  hurries  man  hither  and  thither ; the  other  in 
reason,  which  teaches  and  explains  what  we  are  to  do,  and 
what  we  are  to  avoid.  The  result  is,  that  reason  should  direct 
and  appetite  obey. 

XXIX.  Now  every  human  action  ought  to  be  free  from 
precipitancy  and  negligence,  nor  indeed  ought  we  to  do  any 
thing  for  which  we  can  not  give  a justifiable  reason.  This 
indeed  almost  amounts  to  a definition  of  duty.  Now  we 
must  manage  so  as  to  keep  the  appetites  subservient  to 
reason,  that  they  may  neither  outstrip  it  nor  fall  behind 
through  sloth  and  cowardice.  Let  them  be  ever  composed 
and  free  from  all  perturbation  of  spirit ; and  thus  entire 
consistency  and  moderation  will  display  themselves.  For 
those  appetites  that  are  too  vagrant  and  rampant  as  it  were, 
either  through  desire  or  aversion,  are  not  sufficiently  under 
the  command  of  reason ; such,  I say,  undoubtedly  transgress 
bounds  and  moderation.  For  they  abandon  and  disclaim 
that  subordination  to  reason,  to  which  by  the  law  of  nature 
they  are  subjected,  and  thereby  not  only  the  mind  but  the 
body  is  thrown  into  disturbance.  Let  any  one  observe  the 
very  looks  of  men  who  are  in  a rage,  of  those  who  are 
agitated  by  desire  or  fear,  or  who  exult  in  an  excess  of  joy; 
all  whose  countenances,  voices,  motions,  and  attitudes,  are 
changed. 

But  to  return  to  my  description  of  duty.  From  these  par- 
ticulars we  learn  that  all  our  appetites  ought  to  be  contracted 
and  mitigated ; that  all  our  attention  and  diligence  ought  to 
be  awake,  so  that  we  do  nothing  in  a rash,  random,  thought- 
less, and  inconsiderate  manner.  For  nature  has  not  formed 
us  to  sport  and  merriment,  but  rather  to  seriousness,  and 
studies  that  are  important  and  sublime.  Sport  and  merriment 


^ In  other  words,  to  wisdom,  justice,  and  fortitude. 


CHAP.  XXX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


53 


are  not  always  disallowable  : but  we  are  to  use  them  as  we  do 
sleep  and  other  kinds  of  repose,  when  we  have  dispatched  our 
weighty  and  important  affairs.  Nay,  our  very  manner  of  jok- 
ing should  be  neither  wanton  nor  indecent,  but  genteel  and 
good-humored.  For  as  we  indulge  boys  not  in  an  unlimited 
license  of  sport,  but  only  in  that  which  is  not  inconsistent  with 
virtuous  conduct,  so  in  our  very  jokes  there  should  appear 
some  gleam  of  a virtuous  nature. 

The  manner  of  joking  is  reduceable  under  two  denomina- 
tions ; — one  that  is  ill-bred,  insolent,  profligate,  and  obscene ; 
another  that  is  elegant,  polite,  witty,  and  good-humored. 
We  have  abundance  of  this  last,  not  only  in  our  Plautus, 
and  the  authors  of  the  old  Greek  comedy,  but  in  the  writings 
of  the  Socratic  philosophers.  Many  collections  have  likewise 
been  made  by  various  writers,  of  humorous  sayings,  such  as 
that  made  by  Cato,  and  called  his  Apopthegms.  The  dis- 
dinction,  therefore,  between  a genteel  and  an  ill-mannered 
joke  is  a very  ready  one.  The  former,  if  seasonably 
made,  and  when  the  attention  is  relaxed,  is  worthy  of  a 
virtuous  man;  the  other,  if  it  exhibit  immorality  in  its 
subject,  or  obscenity  in  the  expression,  is  unworthy  even  of  a 
man.  There  is  likewise  a certain  limit  to  be  observed,  even 
in  our  amusements,  that  we  do  not  give  up  every  thing  to 
amusement,  and  that,  after  being  elevated  by  pleasure,  we 
do  not  sink  into  some  immorality.  Our  Campus  Martius, 
and  the  sport  of  hunting,  supply  creditable  examples  of 
amusement. 

XXX.  But  in  all  our  disquisitions  concerning  the  nature  of 
a duty,  it  is  material  that  we  keep  in  our  eye  the  great  excel- 
lence of  man’s  nature  above  that  of  the  brutes  and  all  other  crea- 
tures. They  are  insensible  to  every  thing  but  pleasure,  and  are 
hurried  to  it  by  every  impulse.  Whereas  the  mind  of  man  is 
nourished  by  study  and  reflection,  and,  being  charmed  by  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  and  hearing,  it  is  ever  either  inquiring  or 
acting.  But  if  there  is  a man  who  has  a small  bias  to  pleasure, 
provided  he  is  not  of  the  brute  kind  (for  there  are  some  who 
are  men  only  in  name)  ; but,  I say,  if  he  is  more  high-minded 
even  in  a small  degree,  though  he  may  be  smitten  with  pleas- 
ure, he  yet,  through  a principle  of  shame,  hides  and  disguises 
his  inclination  for  it. 

From  this  we  are  to  conclude  that  mere  corporeal  pleasure 


54 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


is  unworthy  the  excellence  of  man’s  nature  ; and  that  it  ought 
therefore  to  he  despised  and  rejected;  but  that  if  a man 
shall  have  any  delight  in  pleasure,  he  ought  to  be  extremely 
observant  of  limits  in  its  indulgence.  Therefore  the  nourish- 
ment and  dress  of  our  bodies  should  be  with  a view  not  to  our 
pleasure,  but  to  our  health  and  our  strength ; and  should  we 
examine  the  excellence  and  dignity  of  our  nature,  we  should 
then  be  made  sensible  how  shameful  it  is  to  melt  away  in  pleas- 
ure, and  to  live  in  voluptuousness  and  effeminacy ; and  how 
noble  it  is  to  live  with  abstinence,  with  modesty,  with  strict- 
ness, and  sobriety. 

We  are  likewise  to  observe  that  nature  has,  as  it  were,  en- 
dowed us  with  two  characters.  The  first  is  in  common  to  all 
mankind,  because  all  of  us  partake  in  that  excellency  of 
reason,  which  places  us  above  the  brutes;  from  which  is 
derived  all  that  is  virtuous,  all  that  is  graceful,  and  by  which 
we  trace  our  connections  with  our  several  duties.  The  other 
character  is  peculiar  to  individuals.  For,  as  there  are  great 
dissimilarities  in  our  persons — some  for  instance  are  swift  in 
running,  others  strong  in  wrestling;  and  in  style  of  beauty 
some  have  a dignity,  and  others  a sweetness  of  aspect — so  are 
there  still  greater  varieties  in  our  minds. 

Lucius  Crassus  and  Lucius  Philippus  had  a great  deal  of 
wit;  but  in  Gains  Caesar,  the  son  of  Lucius,  it  was  greater 
in  degree,  and  more  elaborate.  In  their  cotemporaries, 
Marcus  Scaurus,  and  young  Marcus  Drusus,  there  was  a 
remarkable  seriousness ; in  Gains  Lselius  great  hilarity ; but 
in  his  friend  Scipio  greater  ambition,  and  a graver  style  of 
life.  As  to  the  Greeks,  we  are  told  of  Socrates  that  he  was 
agreeable  and  witty ; his  conversation  jocose,  and  in  all  his 
discourse  a feigner  of  opinions  whom  the  Greeks  called 
si'gwv.  On  the  other  hand,  Pythagoras  and  Pericles,  without 
any  gayety,  attained  the  highest  authority.  Among  the 
Carthaginian  generals,  Hannibal,  we  learn,  was  crafty,  and 
Quintus  Maximus  among  our  own  generals  was  apt  at  con- 
cealment, secrecy,  dissimulation,  plotting,  and  anticipating  the 
designs  of  enemies.  In  this  class  the  Greeks  rank  Themis- 
tocles,  and  lason  of  Pherae,  above  all  others ; and  place  among 
the  very  first,  that  cunning  and  artful  device  of  Solon,  when, 
to  secure  his  own  life,  and  that  he  might  be  of  greater  service 
to  his  country,  he  counterfeited  madness.  In  opposition  to 


CHAP.  XXXI. 


CICEHO’S  OFFICES. 


55 


those  characters,  the  tempers  of  many  others  are  plain  and 
open.  Lovers  of  truth  and  haters  of  deceit,  they  think  that 
nothing  should  be  done  by  stealth,  nothing  by  stratagem; 
while  others  care  not  what  they  suffer  themselves,  or  whom 
they  stoop  to,  provided  they  accomplish  their  ends;  as  we 
have  seen  Sylla  and  Marcus  Crassus.  In  which  class  Lysander 
the  Lacedaemonian,  we  are  told,  had  the  greatest  art  and  per- 
severance, and  that  Callicratides,  who  succeeded  to  Lysander  in 
the  command  of  the  fleet,  was  the  reverse.  We  have  known 
some  others,  who  though  very  powerful  in  conversation, 
always  make  themselves  appear  undistinguished  individuals 
among  many ; such  were  the  Catuli,  father  and  son,  and 
Quintus  Mucius  Mancia.  I have  heard  from  men  older  than 
myself,  that  Publius  Scipio  ISTasica  was  of  the  same  cast,  but 
that  his  father,  the  same  who  punished  the  pernicious  designs 
of  Tiberius  Gracchus,  was  void  of  all  politeness  in  conver- 
sation : and  the  same  of  Xenocrates,  the  most  austere  of 
philosophers,  and  from  that  very  circumstance  a distinguished 
and  celebrated  man.  Innumerable,  but  far  from  being  blam- 
able,  are  the  other  differences  in  the  natures  and  manners  of 
men. 

XXXI.  Every  man,  however,  ought  carefully  to  follow  out 
his  peculiar  character,  provided  it  is  only  peculiar,  and  not 
vicious,  that  he  may  the  more  easily  attain  that  gracefulness  of 
which  we  are  inquiring.  For  we  ought  to  manage  so  as  never 
to  counteract  the  general  system  of  nature  ; but  having  taken 
care  of  that,  we  are  to  follow  our  natural  bias  ; insomuch,  that 
though  other  studies  may  be  of  greater  weight  and  excellence, 
yet  we  are  to  regulate  our  pursuits  by  the  disposition  of  our 
nature.  It  is  to  no  purpose  to  thwart  nature,  or  to  aim 
at  what  you  can  not  attain.  We  therefore  may  have  a still 
clearer  conception  of  the  graceful  I am  recommending,  from 
this  consideration,  that  nothing  is  graceful  that  goes  (as  the 
saying  is)  against  the  grain,  that  is,  in  contradiction  and  oppo- 
sition to  nature. 

If  any  thing  at  all  is  graceful,  nothing  surely  is  more  so 
than  a uniformity  through  the  course  of  all  your  life,  as 
well  as  through  every  particular  action  of  it;  and  you 
never  can  preserve  this  uniformity,  if,  aping  another  man’s 
nature,  you  forsake  your  own.  For  as  we  ought  to  converse 
in  the  language  we  are  best  acquainted  with,  for  fear  of 


56 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  L 


making  ourselves  justly  ridiculous,  as  those  do  who  cram  in 
Greek  expressions ; so  there  ought  to  be  no  incongruity  in  our 
actions,  and  none  in  all  the  tenor  of  our  lives.^ 

Now  so  powerful  is  this  difference  of  natures,  that  it  may  be 
the  duty  of  one  man  to  put  himself  to  death,  and  yet  not  of 
another,  though  in  the  same  predicament.  For  was  the  pre- 
dicament of  Marcus  Cato  different  from  that  of  those  who  sur- 
rendered themselves  to  Caesar  in  Africa  ? Yet  it  had  been 
perhaps  blamabfe  in  the  latter,  had  they  put  themselves  to 
death,  because  their  lives  were  less  severe,  and  their  moral 
natures  more  pliable.  But  it  became  Cato,  who  had  by  per- 
petual perseverance  strengthened  that  inflexibility  which  nature 
had  given  him,  and  had  never  departed  from  the  purpose  and 
resolution  he  had  once  formed,  to  die  rather  than  to  look  upon 
the  face  of  a tyrant.^ 

1 “ Decency,  or  a proper  regard  to  age,  sex,  character,  and  station  in 
the  world,  may  be  ranked  among  the  qualities  which  are  immediately 
agreeable  to  others,  and  which  by  that  means  acquire  praise  and  appro- 
bation. An  effeminate  behavior  in  a man,  a rough  manner  in  a woman, 
these  are  ugly  because  unsuitable  to  each  character,  and  different  from 
the  qualities  which  we  expect  in  the  sexes.  It  is  as  if  a tragedy  abound- 
ed in  comic  beauties,  or  a comedy  in  tragic.  The  disproportions  hurt  the 
eye,  and  convey  a disagreeable  sentiment  to  the  spectators,  the  source 
of  blame  and  disapprobation.  This  is  that  indecorum  which  is  explained 
so  much  at  large  by  Cicero  in  his  Offices.” — Hume’s  “Principles  of 
Morals,”  sec.  8. 

^ The  guilt  of  suicide  has  been  palliated  by  Godwin,  and  utterly  de- 
nied by  Hume.  The  following  remarks  emanated  from  a sounder  moral- 
ist than  either : 

“ The  lesson  which  the  self-destroyer  teaches  to  his  connections,  of 
sinking  in  despair  under  the  evils  of  life,  is  one  of  the  most  pernicious 
which  a man  can  bequeath.  The  power  of  the  example  is  also  great. 
Every  act  of  suicide  tacitly  conveys  the  sanction  of  one  more  judgment 
in  its  favor ; frequency  of  repetition  diminishes  the  sensation  of  abhor- 
rence, and  makes  succeeding  sufferers  resort  to  it  with  less  reluctance.” 
“Besides  which  general  reasons,”  says  Dr.  Paley,  (“  Moral  and  Pohtical 
Philosophy,”  book  4,  c.  3),  “ each  case  will  be  aggravated  by  its  own 
proper  and  particular  consequences ; by  the  duties  that  are  deserted ; by 
the  claims  that  are  defrauded ; by  the  loss,  affliction,  or  disgrace,  which 
our  death,  or  the  manner  of  it,  causes  our  family,  kindred,  or  friends ; by 
the  occasion  we  give  to  many  to  suspect  the  sincerity  of  our  moral  and 
religious  professions,  and  together  with  ours  those  of  all  others;”  and 
lastly  by  the  scandal  which  we  bring  upon  religion  itself,  by  declaring 
practically  that  it  is  not  able  to  support  man  under  the  calamities  of  life. 
Some  men  say  that  the  New  Testament  contains  no  prohibition  of  suicide. 
If  this  were  true  it  would  avail  nothing,  because  there  are  many  things 


CHAP.  XXXI. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


51 


How  various  were  those  sufferings  of  Ulysses,  in  his  long 
continued  wanderings,  when  he  became  the  slave  of  women 
(if  you  consider  Circe  and  Calypso  as  such) : and  in  all  he 
said  he  sought  to  be  complaisant  and  agreeable  to  every 
body,  nay,  put  up  with  abuses  from  slaves  and  handmaidens 
at  home,  that  he  might  at  length  compass  what  he  desired ; 
but  with  the  spirit  with  which  he  is  represented,  Ajax  would 
have  preferred  a thousand  deaths  to  suffering  such  indignities. 

In  the  contemplation  of  which  each  ought  to  consider’ what 
is  peculiar  to  himself,  and  to  regulate  those  peculiarities,  with- 
out making  any  experiments  how  another  man’s  become  them ; 
for  that  manner  which  is  most  peculiarly  a man’s  own  always 
becomes  him  best. 

Every  man  ought,  therefore,  to  study  his  own  genius,  so 
as  to  become  an  impartial  judge  of  his  own  good  and  bad 
qualities,  otherwise  the  players  will  discover  better  sense 
than  we  ; for  they  don’t  choose  for  themselves  those  parts 
that  are  the  most  excellent,  but  those  which  are  best  adapted 
to  them.  Those  who  rely  on  their  voices  choose  the  part  of 
Epigonas  or  Medus ; the  best  actors  that  of  Menalippa  or 
Clytemnestra.  Eupilius,  who  I remember,  always  selected 
that  of  Antiopa ; Esopus  seldom  chose  that  of  Ajax.  Shall 
a player,  then,  observe  this  upon  the  stage,  and  shall  a wise 
man  not  observe  it  in  the  conduct  of  life  ? Let  us,  there- 
fore, most  earnestly  apply  to  those  parts  for  which  we  are 
best  fitted ; but  should  necessity  degrade  us  into  characters 

which  it  does  not  forbid,  but  which  every  one  knows  to  be  wicked.  But 
in  reality  it  does  forbid  it.  Every  exhortation  which  it  gives  to  be  pa- 
tient, every  encouragement  to  trust  in  God,  every  consideration  which  it 
urges  as  a support  under  affliction  and  distress,  is  a virtual  prohibition 
of  suicide ; because  if  a man  commits  suicide  he  rejects  every  such  ad- 
vice and  encouragement,  and  disregards  every  such  motive. 

“ To  him  who  believes  either  in  revealed  or  natural  religion, -there  is  a 
certain  folly  in  the  commission  of  suicide ; for  from  what  does  he  fly  ? 
from  his  present  sufferings,  while  death,  for  aught  that  he  has  reason  to 
expect,  or  at  any  rate  for  aught  that  he  knows,  may  only  be  the  portal 
to  sufferings  more  intense.  Natural  religion,  I think,  gives  no  counten- 
ance to  the  supposition  that  suicide  can  be  approved  by  the  Deity,  be- 
cause it  proceeds  upon  the  belief  that,  in  another  state  of  existence,  he 
will  compensate  good  men  for  the  sufferings  of  the  present.  At  the 
best,  and  under  either  religion,  it  is  a desperate  stake.  He  that  commits 
murder  may  repent,  and,  we  hope,  be  forgiven ; but  he  that  destroys 
himself,  while  he  incurs  a load  of  guilt,  cuts  off  by  the  act  the  power  of 
repentance.” — Dymond’s  Essays,  Essay  ii.  chap.  16. 


58 


CICERO’S  OEEICES. 


BOOK  I. 


unsuitable  to  our  genius,  let  us  employ  all  our  care,  attention, 
and  industry,  in  endeavoring  to  perform  them,  if  not  with  pro- 
priety, with  as  little  impropriety  as  possible  : nor  should  we 
strive  so  much  to  attain  excellencies  which  have  not  been  con- 
ferred on  us,  as  to  avoid  defects. 

XXXII.  To  the  two  characters  above  described  is  added  a 
third,  which  either  accident  or  occasion  imposes  on  us ; and 
even  a fourth,  which  we  accommodate  to  ourselves  by  our  own 
judgfUent  and  choice.  Xow  kingdoms,  governments,  honors, 
dignities,  riches,  interest,  and  whatever  are  the  qualities  con- 
trary to  them,  happen  through  accident,  and  are  directed  by 
occasions ; but  what  part  we  ourselves  should  wish  to  act, 
originates  from  our  own  will.  Some,  therefore,  apply  to  philos- 
ophy, to  the  civil  law,  and  some  to  eloquence  ; and  of  the  virtues 
themselves  some  endeavor  to  shine  in  one,  and  some  in  another. 

Men  generally  are  ambitious  of  distinguishing  themselves 
in  that  kind  of  excellence  in  which  their  fathers  or  their  an- 
cestors were  most  famous  : for  instance,  Quintus,  the  son  of 
Publius  Mucius,  in  the  civil  law ; . Africanus,  the  son  of 
Paulus,  in  the  art  of  war.  Some,  however,  increase,  by 

merits  of  their  own,  that  glory  which  they  have  received  from 
their  fathers;  for  the  same  Africanus  crowned  his  military 
glory  with  the  practice  of  eloquence.  In  like  manner,  Timo- 
theus,  the  son  of  Conon,  who  equaled  his  father  in  the  duties 
of  the  field,  but  added  to  them  the  glory  of  genius  and  learn- 
ing. Sometimes,  however,  it  happens  that  men,  laying  aside  the 
imitation  of  their  ancestors,  follow  a purpose  of  their  own ; and 
this  is  most  commonly  the  case  with  such  men  who,  though  de- 
scended from  obscure  ancestors,  purpose  to  themselves  great 
aims. 

In  our  search,  then,  after  what  is  graceful,  all  those  particu- 
lars ought  to  be  embraced  in  our  contemplation  and  study.  In 
the  first  place,  we  are  to  determine  who  and  what  manner  of 
men  we  are  to  be,  and  what  mode  of  life  we  are  to  adopt — a 
consideration  which  is  the  most  difficult  of  all ; for,  in  our  early 
youth,  there  is  the  greatest  weakness  of  judgment,  every  one 
chooses  to  himself  that  kind  of  life  which  he  has  most  fancied. 
He,  therefore,  is  trepanned  into  some  fixed  and  settled  course 
of  living  before  he  is  capable  to  judge  what  is  the  most 
proper.^ 

* “ I have  often  thought  those  happj  that  have  been  fixed,  from  the  first 


CHAP.  XXXIII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


59 


For  tlie  Hercules  of  Prodicus,  as  we  learn  from  Xenophon, 
in  his  early  puberty  (an  age  appointed  by  nature  for  every 
man’s  choosing  his  scheme  of  life)  is  said  to  have  gone  into  a 
solitude,  and  there  sitting  down,  to  have  deliberated  within 
himself  much,  and  for  a long  time,  whether  of  two  paths  that 
he  saw  before  him  it  was  better  to  enter  on,  the  one  of  pleasure, 
the  other  of  virtue.  This  might,  indeed,  happen  to  a Jove- 
begotten  Hercules ; but  not  so  with  us,  who  imitate  those 
whom  we  have  an  opinion  of,  and  are  thereby  drawm  into 
their  pursuits  and  purposes  : for  generally  prepossessed  by 
the  principles  of  our  parents,  we  are  drawn  away  to  their 
customs  and  habits.  Others,  swayed  by  the  judgment  of 
the  multitude,  are  passionately  fond  of  those  things  which 
seem  best  to  the  majority.  A few,  however,  either  through 
some  good  fortune,  or  a certain  excellency  of  nature,  or 
through  the  training  of  their  parents,  pursue  the  right  path  of 
life. 

XXXIII.  The  rarest  class  is  composed  of  those  who,  en- 
dowed with  an  exalted  genius,  or  with  excellent  education  and 
learning,  or  possessing  both,  have  had  scope  enough  for  deliber- 
ating as  to  what  course  of  life  they  would  be  most  willing  to 
adopt.  Every  design,  in  such  a deliberation,  ought  to  be  re- 
ferred to  the  natural  powers  of  the  individual ; for  since,  as  I 
said  before,  we  discover  this  propriety  in  every  act  which  is  per- 
formed, by  reference  to  the  qualities  with  which  a man  is  born, 
so,  in  fixing  the  plan  of  our  future  life,  we  ought  to  be  still 
much  more  careful  in  that  respect,  that  we  may  be  consistent 
throughout  the  duration  of  life  with  ourselves,  and  not  deficient 
in  any  one  duty. 

But  because  nature  in  this  possesses  the  chief  power,  and 

dawn  of  thought,  in  a determination  to  some  state  of  life,  by  the  choice  of 
one  whose  authority  may  preclude  caprice,  and  whose  influence  may  prej- 
udice them  in  favor  of  his  opinion.  The  general  precept  of  consulting 
the  genius  is  of  little  use,  unless  we  are  told  how  the  genius  can  he 
known.  If  it  is  to  he  discovered  only  hy  experiment,  life  will  he  lost 
before  the  resolution  can  he  fixed ; if  any  other  indications  are  to  he 
found,  they  may,  perhaps,  he  very  early  discerned.  At  least,  if  to  mis- 
carry in  an  attempt  he  a proof  of  having  mistaken  the  direction  of  the 
genius,  men  appear  not  less  frequently  deceived  with  regard  to  themselves 
than  to  others ; and  therefore  no  one  has  much  reason  to  complain  that 
his  life  was  planned  out  hy  his  friends,  or  to  he  confident  that  he  should 
have  had  either  more  honor  or  happiness,  hy  being  abandoned  to  tho 
chance  of  his  own  fancy.” — Dr.  Johnson’s  “ Rambler,”  No.  19. 


60 


CICERO’S  OFEICES. 


BOCK  I 


fortune  the  next,  we  ought  to  pay  regard  to  both  in  fixing 
our  scheme  of  life ; but  chiefly  to  nature,  as  she  is  much 
more  firm  and  constant,  insomuch  that  the  struggle  some- 
times between  nature  and  fortune,  seems  to  be  between  a 
mortal  and  an  immortal  being.  The  man,  therefore,  who 
adapts  his  whole  system  of  living  to  his  undepraved  nature,  let 
him  maintain  his  constancy ; for  that,  above  all  things,  be- 
comes a man,  provided  he  come  not  to  learn  that  he  has  been 
mistaken  in  his  choice  of  a mode  of  life.  Should  that  occur,  as 
it  possibly  may,  a change  must  be  made  in  all  his  habits  and 
purposes  which,  if  circumstances  shall  be  favorable,  we  shall 
more  easily  and  readily  effect ; but,  should  it  happen  otherwise, 
it  must  be  done  slowly  and  gradually.  Thus  men  of  sense 
think  it  more  suitable  that  friendships  which  are  disagreeable 
or  not  approved  should  be  gradually  detached,  rather  than  sud- 
denly cut  off.  Still,  upon  altering  our  scheme  of  life,  we  ought 
to  take  the  utmost  care  to  make  it  appear  that  we  have  done  it 
upon  good  grounds. 

But  if,  as  I said  above,  we  are  to  imitate  our  ancestors, 
this  should  be  first  excepted  that  their  bad  qualities  must  not 
be  imitated.  In  the  next  place,  if  nature  does  not  qualify 
us  to  imitate  them  in  some  things,  we  are  not  to  attempt  it : 
for  instance,  the  son  of  the  elder  Africanus,  who  adopted  the 
younger  son  of  Paulus,  could  not,  from  infirmity  of  health, 
resemble  his  father  so  much  as  his  father  did  his  grand- 
father. If,  therefore,  a man  is  unable  to  defend  causes,  to 
entertain  the  people,  by  haranguing,  or  to  wage  war,  yet  still 
he  ought  to  do  what  is  in  his  power ; he  ought  to  practice  jus- 
tice, honor,  generosity,  modesty,  and  temperance,  that  what  is 
wanting  may  be  the  less  required  of  him.  Now,  the  best 
inheritance  a parent  can  leave  a child — more  excellent  than 
any  patrimony — is  the  glory  of  his  virtue  and  his  deeds ; to 
bring  disgrace  on  which  ought  to  be  regarded  as  wicked  and 
monstrous. 

XXXIV.  And  as  the  same  moral  duties  are  not  suited  to  the 
different  periods  of  life,  some  belonging  to  the  young,  others 
to  the  old,  we  must  likewise  say  somewhat  on  this  distinc- 
tion. It  is  the  duty  of  a young  man  to  reverence  his  elders, 
and  among  them  to  select  the  best  and  the  worthiest,  on 
whose  advice  and  authority  to  rely.  For  the  inexperience 
of  youth  ought  to  be  instructed  and  conducted  by  the  wisdom 


CHAP.  XXXIV. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


61 


of  the  aged.  Above  all  things,  the  young  man  ought  to  be 
restrained  from  lawless  desires,  and  exercised  in  endurance  and 
labor  both  of  body  and  mind,  that  by  persevering  in  them,  he 
may  be  efficient  in  the  duties  both  of  war  and  peace.  Nay, 
when  they  even  unbend  their  minds  and  give  themselves  up  to 
mirth,  they  ought  to  avoid  intemperance,  and  never  lose  sight  of 
]norality  ; and  this  will  be  the  more  easy  if  even  upon  such  oc- 
casions they  desire  that  their  elders  should  be  associated  with 
them.^ 

As  to  old  men,  their  bodily  labors  seem  to  require  diminution, 
but  the  exercises  of  their  mind  ought  even  to  be  increased. 
Their  care  should  be  to  assist  their  friends,  the  youth,  and 
above  all  their  country,  to  the  utmost  of  their  ability  by  their 
adduce  and  experience.  Now  there  is  nothing  that  old  age  ought 
more  carefully  to  guard  against,  than  giving  itself  up  to  listless- 
ness and  indolence.  As  to  luxury,  though  it  is  shameful  in 
every  stage  of  life,  in  old  age  it  is  detestable  ; but  if  to  that  is 
added  intemperance  in  lawless  desires,  the  evil  is  doubled ; be- 
cause old  age  itself  thereby  incurs  disgrace  ; and  makes  the 
excesses  of  the  young  more  shameless.^ 

Neither  is  it  foreign  to  my  purpose  to  touch  upon  the  duties 
of  magistrates,  of  private  citizens,  and  of  strangers.  It  is  then 
the  peculiar  duty  of  a magistrate  to  bear  in  mind  that  he  rep- 
resents the  state,  and  that  he  ought,  therefore,  to  maintain  its 
dignity  and  glory,  to  preserve  its  constitution,  to  act  by  its  laws, 
and  to  remember  that  these  things  are  committed  to  his  fidel- 

^ So  Dr.  South  describes  joy  as  exhibited  by  Adam  in  the  state  of  inno- 
cence, in  the  most  remarkable  of  his  productions,  the  sermon  entitled 
“Man  created  in  God’s  image.”  “It  was  (says  he)  refreshing,  but  com- 
posed, like  the  gayety  of  youth  tempered  with  the  gravity  of  age,  or  the 
mirth  of  a festival  managed  with  the  silence  of  contemplation.”  The 
course  here  prescribed  was  adopted  in  the  institutions  of  Lycurgus,  and 
recommended  by  Plato. 

2 “It  may  very  reasonably  be  suspected  that  the  old  draw  upon  them- 
selves the  greatest  parts  of  those  insults  which  they  so  much  lament,  and 
that  age  is  rarely  despised  but  when  it  is  contemptible.  If  men  imagine 
that  excessive  debauchery  can  be  made  reverend  by  time,  that  knowl- 
edge is  the  consequence  of  long  life,  however  idly  and  thoughtlessly  em- 
ployed, that  priority  of  birth  will  supply  the  want  of  steadiness  or 
honesty,  can  it  raise  much  wonder  that  their  hopes  are  disappointed, 
and  that  they  see  their  posterity  rather  willing  to  trust  their  own  eyes 
in  their  progress  into  life,  than  enlist  themselves  under  guides  who  have 
lost  their  way  ?” — Dr.  Johnson. 


62 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


As  to  a private  man  and  citizen,  his  duty  is  to  live  upon 
a just  and  equal  footing  with  his  fellow-citizens,  neither  subor- 
dinate and  subservient  nor  domineering.  In  his  sentiments  of 
the  public  to  be  always  for  peaceful  and  virtuous  measures  ; for 
such  we  are  accustomed  to  imagine  and  describe  a virtuous 
citizen. 

Now  the  duty  of  a stranger  and  an  alien  is,  to  mind  nothing 
but  his  own  business,  not  to  intermeddle  wdth  another,  and  least 
of  all  to  be  curious  about  the  affairs  of  a foreign  government. 
Thus  we  shall  generally  succeed  in  the  practice  of  the  moral 
duties,  when  avc  inquire  after  what  is  most  becoming  and  best 
fitted  to  persons,  occasions,  and  ages  ; and  nothing  is  more  be- 
coming than  in  all  our  actions  and  in  all  our  deliberations  to 
preserve  consistency. 

XXXV.  But,  because  the  graceful  or  becoming  character  we 
treat  of  appears  in  all  our  words  and  actions,  nay,  in  every 
motion  and  disposition  of  our  person,  and  consists  of  three  par- 
ticulars, beauty,  regularity,  and  appointment  suited  to  action 
(ideas  which  indeed  are  difficult  to  be  expressed,  but  it  is  suffi- 
cient if  they  are  understood) ; and  as  in  these  three  heads  is 
comprehended  our  care  to  be  approved  by  those  among  whom 
and  with  whom  we  live,  on  them  also  a few  observations  must 
be  made.  In  the  first  place  nature  seems  to  have  paid  a great 
regard  to  the  form  of  our  bodies,  by  exposing  to  the  sight  all 
that  part  of  our  figure  that  has  a beautiful  appearance,  while 
she  has  covered  and  concealed  those  parts  which  were  given 
for  the  necessities  of  nature,  and  which  would  have  been  ofien- 
sive  and  disagreeable  to  the  sight. 

This  careful  contrivance  of  nature  has  been  imitated  by 
the  modesty  of  mankind ; for  all  men  in  their  senses  conceal 
from  the  eye  the  parts  which  nature  has  hid ; and  they  take 

^ Respecting  the  ultimate  possession  of  political  power  by  the  govern- 
ed, and  the  consequently  delegated  power  of  rulers,  we  have  the  follow- 
ing striking  passage  in  “Hall’s  Liberty  of  the  Press:”  “With  the 
enemies  of  freedom  it  is  a usual  artifice  to  represent  the  sovereignty  of 
the  people  as  a license  to  anarchy  and  disorder.  But  the  tracing  of  civil 
power  to  that  source  will  not  diminish  our  obligation  to  obey ; it  only  ex- 
plains its  reasons,  and  settles  it  on  clear  determinate  principles.  It  turns 
blind  submission  into  rational  obedience,  tempers  the  passion  for  liberty 
with  the  love  of  order,  and  places  mankind  in  a happy  medium,  between 
the  extremes  of  anarchy  on  the  one  side,  and  oppression  on  the  other. 
It  is  the  polar  star  that  will  conduct  us  safe  over  the  ocean  of  political 
debate  and  speculation,  the  law  of  laws,  the  legislator  of  legislators.” 


CHAP.  XXXVI. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


63 


care  that  they  should  discharge  as  privately  as  possible  even 
the  necessities  of  nature.  And  those  parts  which  serve  those 
necessities,  and  the  necessities  themselves,  are  not  called  by 
their  real  names ; because  that  which  is  not  shameful  it 
privately  performed,  it  is  still  obscene  to  describe.  There- 
fore neither  the  public  commission  of  those  things,  nor  the 
obscene  expression  of  them,  is  free  from  immodesty. 

Neither  are  we  to  regard  the  Cynics  or  the  Stoics,  who 
are  next  to  Cynics,  who  abuse  and  ridicule  us  for  deeming 
things  that  are  not  shameful  in  their  own  nature,  to  become 
vicious  through  names  and  expressions.  Now,  we  give 
every  thing  that  is  disgraceful  in  its  own  nature  its  proper 
term.  Theft,  fraud,  adultery,  are  disgraceful  in  their  own 
nature,  but  not  obscene  in  the  expression.  The  act  of  be- 
getting children  is  virtuous,  but  the  expression  obscene. 
Thus,  a great  many  arguments  to  the  same  purpose  are 
maintained  by  these  philosophers  in  subversion  of  delicacy. 
Let  us,  for  our  parts,  follow  nature,  and  avoid  whatever  is 
offensive  to  the  eyes  or  ears ; let  us  aim  at  the  graceful  or 
becoming,  whether  we  stand  or  walk,  whether  we  sit  or  lie 
down,  in  every  motion  of  our  features,  our  eyes,  or  our. 
hands. 

In  those  matters  two  things  are  chiefly  to  be  avoided ; 
that  'there  be  nothing  effeminate  and  foppish,  nor  any  thing 
coarse  and  clownish.  Neither  are  we  to  admit,  that  those 
considerations  are  proper  for  actors  and  orators,  but  not 
binding  upon  us.  The  manners  at  least  of  the  actors, 
from  the  morality  of  our  ancestors,  are  so  decent  that  none 
of  them  appear  upon  the  stage  without  an  under-covering ; 
being  afraid  lest  if  by  any  accident  certain  parts  of  the  body 
should  be  exposed,  they  should  make  an  indecent  appearance. 
According  to  our  customs,  sons  grown  up  to  manhood  do  not 
bathe  along  with  their  fathers,  nor  sons-in-law  with  their 
fathers-in-law.  Modesty  of  this  kind,  therefore,  is  to  be 
cherished,  especially  as  nature  herself  is  our  instructor  and 
guide. 

XXXVI.  Now  as  beauty  is  of  two  kinds,  one  that  consists 
in  loveliness,  and  the  other  in  dignity;  loveliness  we  should 
regard  as  the  characteristic  of  women,  dignity  of  men : 
therefore,  let  a man  remove  from  his  person  every  ornament 
that  is  unbecoming  a man,  and  let  him  take  the  same  care  of 


64 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


every  similar  fault  with  regard  to  his  gesture  or  motion.  For 
very  often  the  movements  learned  in  the  Palaestra  are  offens- 
ive, and  not  a few  impertinent  gestures  among  the  players 
are  productive  of  disgust,  while  in  both  whatever  is  unaffected 
and  simple  is  received  with  applause.  Now,  comeliness  in  the 
person  is  preserved  by  the  freshness  of  the  complexion,  and 
that  freshness  by  the  exercises  of  the  body.  To  this  we  are 
to  add,  a neatness  that  is  neither  troublesome  nor  too  much 
studied,  but  which  just  avoids  all  clownish,  ill-bred  sloven- 
ness. The  same  rules  are  to  be  observed  with  regard  to 
ornaments  of  dress,  in  which,  as  in  all  other  matters,  a mean 
is  preferable. 

We  must  likewise  avoid  a drawling  solemn  pace  in  walk- 
ing, so  as  to  seem  like  bearers  in  a procession ; and  likewise 
in  matters  that  require  dispatch,  quick,  hurried  motions ; 
which,  when  they  occur,  occasion  a shortness  of  breathing, 
an  alteration  in  the  looks,  and  a convulsion  in  the  features, 
all  which  strongly  indicate  an  inconstant  character.  But 
still  greater  should  be  our  care  that  the  movements  of  our 
mind  never  depart  from  nature ; in  which  we  shall  succeed 
if  we  guard  against  falling  into  any  flurry  and  disorder  of 
spirit,  and  keep  our  faculties  intent  on  the  preservation  of 
propriety.  Now  the  motions  of  the  mind  are  of  two  kinds, 
the  one  of  reflection  and  the  other  of  appetite.  Reflection 
chiefly  applies  itself  in  the  search  of  truth.  Appetite  prompts 
us  to  action.  We  are  therefore  to  take  care  to  employ  our 
reflection  upon  the  best  subjects,  and  to  render  our  appetite 
obedient  to  our  reason. 

XXXVII.  And  since  the  influence  of  speech  is  very  great 
and  that  of  two  kinds — one  proper  for  disputing,  the  other 
for  discoursing — the  former  should  be  employed  in  plead- 
ings at  trials,  in  assemblies  of  the  people,  and  meetings  of  the 
senate ; the  latter  in  social  circles,  disquisitions,  the  meetings  of 
our  friends,  and  should  likewise  attend  upon  entertainments. 
Rhetoricians  lay  down  rules  for  disputing,  but  none  for  dis- 
coursing, though  I am  not  sure  but  that  likewise  may  be 
done.  Masters  are  to  be  found  in  all  pursuits  in  which  there 
are  learners,  and  all  places  are  filled  with  crowds  of  rhetori- 
cians ; but  there  are  none  who  study  this,  and  yet  all  the  rules 
that  are  laid  down  for  words  and  sentiments  (in  debate) 
are  likewise  applicable  to  conversation. 


CHAP.  XXXVII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


65 


But,  as  we  have  a voice  as  the  organ  of  speech,  we  ought 
to  aim  at  two  properties  in  it : first  that  it  be  clear,  and 
secondly  that  it  be  agreeable ; both  are  unquestionably  to  be 
sought  from  nature ; and  yet  practice  may  improve  the  one, 
and  imitating  those  who  speak  nervously  and  distinctly,  the 
other.  There  was,  in  the  Catuli,  nothing  by  which  you 
could  conclude  them  possessed  of  any  exquisite  judgment  in 
language,  though  learned  to  be  sure  they  were ; and  so  have 
others  been.  But  the  Catuli  were  thought  to  excel  in  the 
Latin  tongue ; their  pronunciation  was  harmonious,  their 
words  were  neither  mouthed  nor  minced  ; so  that  their  ex- 
pression was  distinct,  without  being  unpleasant;  while  their 
voice,  without  strain,  was  neither  faint  nor  shrill.  The 
manner  of  Lucius  Crassus  was  more  flowing,  and  equally 
elegant;  though  the  opinion  concerning  the  Catuli,  as  good 
speakers,  was  not  less.  But  Caesar,  brother  to  the  elder 
Catulus,  exceeded  all  in  wit  and  humor ; insomuch  that  even 
in  the  forensic  style  of  speaking,  he  with  his  conversational 
manner,  surpassed  the  energetic  eloquence  of  others.  There- 
fore, in  all  those  matters,  we  must  labor  diligently  if  we 
would  discover  what  is  the  point  of  propriety  in  every  instance. 

Let  our  common  discourse  therefore  (and  this  is  the  great 
excellence  of  the  followers  of  Socrates)  be  smooth  and  good- 
humored,  without  the  least  arrogance.  Let  there  be  pleas- 
antry in  it.  ISTor  let  any  one  speaker  exclude  all  others  as 
if  he  were  entering  on  a province  of  his  own,  but  consider 
that  in  conversation,  as  in  other  things,  alternate  participa- 
tion is  but  fair.^  But  more  especially  let  him  consider  on 
what  subjects  he  should  speak.  If  serious,  let  him  use  grav- 
ity; if  merry,  good-humor.  But  a man  ought  to  take  the 

1 “ As  the  mutual  shocks  in  society  and  the  opposition  of  interest  and 
self-love,  have  constrained  mankind  to  establish  the  laws  of  justice,  in 
order  to  preserve  the  advantages  of  mutual  assistance  and  protection ; in 
like  manner,  the  eternal  contrarieties  in  company  of  men’s  pride  and  self- 
conceit,  have  introduced  the  rules  of  good  manners  or  politeness,  in  order 
to  facilitate  the  intercourse  of  minds  and  an  undisturbed  commerce  and 
conversation.  Among  well-bred  people,  a mutual  deference  is  effected, 
contempt  of  others  disguised,  authority  concealed,  attention  given  to 
each  in  his  time,  and  an  easy  stream  of  conversation  maintained,  without 
vehemence,  without  interruption,  without  eagerness  for  victory,  and  with- 
out any  airs  of  superiority.  These  attentions  and  regards  are  immedi- 
ately agreeable  to  others,  abstracted  from  any  consideration  of  utility  or 
beneficial  tendencies j they  conciliate  affection,  promote  esteem,  and  ex- 


66 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  L 


greatest  care  that  his  discourse  betray  no  defect  in  his  mo- 
rals ; and  this  generally  is  the  case  when  for  the  sake  of  de- 
traction we  eagerly  speak  of  the  absent  in  a malicious,  ridic- 
ulous, harsh,  bitter,  and  contemptuous  manner. 

Now  conversation  generally  turns  upon  private  concerns, 
or  politics,  or  the  pursuits  of  art  and  learning.  We  are. 
therefore,  to  study,  whenever  our  conversation  begins  to 
ramble  to  other  subjects,  to  recall  it : and  whatever  subjects 
may  present  themselves  (for  we  are  not  at  all  pleased  with  the 
same  subjects  and  that  similarly  and  at  all  times)  we  should 
observe  how  far  our  conversation  maintains  its  interest ; and 
as  there  was  a reason  for  beginning  so  there  should  be  a limit 
at  which  to  conclude. 

XXXVIII.  But  as  we  are  very  properly  enjoined,  in  all 
the  course  of  our  life,  to  avoid  all  fits  of  passion,  that  is,  ex- 
cessive emotions  of  the  mind  uncontrolled  by  reason ; in  like 
manner,  our  conversation  ought  to  be  free  from  all  such  emo- 
tions; so  that  neither  resentment  manifest  itself,  nor  undue 
desire,  nor  slovenness,  nor  indolence,  nor  any  thing  of  that 
kind ; and,  above  all  things,  we  should  endeavor  to  indicate 
both  esteem  and  love  for  those  we  converse  with.  Ee- 
proaches  may  sometimes  be  necessary,  in  which  we  may  per- 
haps be  obliged  to  employ  a higher  strain  of  voice  and  a 
harsher  turn  of  language.  Even  in  that  case,  we  ought  only 
to  seem  to  do  these  things  in  anger ; but  as,  in  the  cases  of 
cautery  and  amputations,  so  with  this  kind  of  correction  we 
should  have  recourse  to  it  seldom  and  unwillingly ; and  in- 
deed, never  but  when  no  other  remedy  can  be  discovered ; 
but  still,  let  all  passion  be  avoided ; for  with  that  nothing 
can  be  done  with  rectitude,  nothing  with  discretion. 

In  general  it  is  allowable  to  adopt  a mild  style  of  rebuke, 
combining  it  with  seriousness,  so  that  severity  may  be  indi- 
cated but  abusive  language  avoided.  Nay,  even  what  of 
bitterness  there  is  in  the  reproach  should  be  shown  to  have 

tremely  enhance  the  merit  of  the  person  who  regulates  his  behavior  by 
them. 

“ In  conversation,  the  lively  spirit  of  dialogue  is  agreeable  even  to 
those  who  desire  not  to  have  any  share  in  the  discourse.  Hence  the  re- 
later  of  long  stories,  or  the  pompous  declaimer  is  very  little  approved  of 
Rut  most  men  desire  likewise  their  time  in  the  conversation,  and  regard 
with  a very  evil  eye  that  loquacity  which  deprives  them  of  a right  they 
are  naturally  so  zealous  of.” — Hume’s  “Principles  of  Morals,”  sec.  viii. 


CHAP.  XXXIX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES 


67 


been  adopted  for  tbe  sake  of  the  party  reproved.  Now,  it  is 
advisable,  even  in  those  disputes  which  take  place  with  our 
bitterest  enemies,  if  we  hear  any  that  is  insulting  to  ourselves 
to  maintain  our  equanimity,  and  repress  passion ; for  what- 
ever is  done  under  such  excitement  can  never  be  either  con- 
sistently performed,  or  approved  of  by  those  who  are  present.^ 
It  is  likewise  indecent  for  a man  to  be  loud  in  his  own  praise 
(and  the  more  so  if  it  be  false),  and  so  to  imitate  the  swagger- 
ing soldier  (in  the  play)  amidst  the  derision  of  the  auditors. 

XXXIX.  Now,  as  I touch,  at  least  wish  to  touch,  upon 
every  matter  of  duty,  I shall  likewise  treat  of  the  kind  of 
house  which  I think  suited  to  a man  of  high  rank  and  office ; 
the  end  of  this  being  utility,  to  it  the  design  of  the  building 
must  be  adapted,  but  still  regard  must  be  paid  to  magnifi- 
cence and  elegance.  We  learn  that  it  was  to  the  honor  of 
Cneius  Octavius,  the  first  of  that  family  who  was  raised  to 
the  consulship,  that  he  built  upon  the  Palatine,  a house  of  a 
noble  and  majestic  appearance,  which,  as  it  was  visited  as  a 
spectacle  by  the  common  people,  was  supposed  to  have  voted 
its  proprietor,  though  but  a new  man,  into  the  consulship. 
Scaurus  demolished  this  house,  and  took  the  ground  into  his 
own  palace.  But  though  the  one  first  brought  a consulship 
into  his  family,  yet  the  other,  though  the  son  of  a man  of  the 
greatest  rank  and  distinction,  carried  into  this,  his  enlarged 
palace,  not  only  repulse  but  disgrace,  nay  ruin. 

^ ‘‘The  command  of  anger  appears,  upon  many  occasions,  not  less  gener- 
ous and  noble  than  that  of  fear.  The  proper  expression  of  just  indig- 
nation composes  many  of  the  most  splendid  and  admired  passages  both 
of  ancient  and  modern  eloquence.  The  Philippics  of  Demosthenes,  the 
Catilinarians  of  Cicero  derive  their  whole  beauty  from  the  noble  propri- 
ety with  which  this  passion  is  expressed.  But  this  just  indignation  is 
nothing  but  anger  restrained  and  properly  attempered  to  what  the  im- 
partial spectator  can  enter  into.  The  blustering  and  noisy  passion 
which  goes  beyond  this  is  always  odious  and  offensive,  and  interests  us, 
not  for  the  angry  man  but  the  man  with  whom  he  is  angry.  The  noble- 
ness of  pardoning  appears,  upon  many  occasions,  superior  even  to  the 
most  perfect  propriety  of  resenting,  when  either  proper  acknowledg- 
ments have  been  made  by  the  offending  party,  or,  even  without  any 
such  acknowledgments,  when  the  public  interest  requires  that  the  most 
mortal  enemies  should  unite  for  the  discharge  of  some  important  duty. 
The  man  who  can  cast  away  all  animosity,  and  act  with  confidence  and 
cordiality  toward  the  person  who  had  most  grievously  offended  him, 
seems  justly  to  merit  our  highest  admiration.” — Smith’s  “ Moral  Senti- 
ments,” part  vi.  section  iii 


68 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


B003L  I. 


For  dignity  should  be  adorned  by  a palace,  but  not  be  wholly 
sought  from  it : — the  house  ought  to  be  ennobled  by  the 
master,  and  not  the  master  by  the  house.  And,  as  in  other 
matters  a man  should  have  regard  to  others  and  not  to  his 
own  concerns  alone,  so  in  the  house  of  a man  of  rank,  who 
is  to  entertain  a great  many  guests  and  to  admit  a multitude 
of  all  denominations,  attention  should  be  paid  to  spaciousness ; 
but  a great  house  often  reflects  discredit  upon  its  master,  if 
there  is  solitude  in  it,  especially  if,  under  a former  proprietor, 
it  has  been  accustomed  to  be  well  filled.  It  is  a mortifying 
thing  when  passengers  exclaim,  “ Ah ! ancient  dwelling ! by 
how  degenerate  a master  art  thou  occupied !”  which  may 
well  be  said  at  the  present  time  of  a great  many  houses. 

But  you  are  to  take  care,  especially  if  you  build  for  yourself, 
not  to  go  beyond  bounds  in  grandeur  and  costliness.  Even 
the  example  of  an  excess  of  this  kind  does  much  mischief.  For 
most  people,  particularly  in  this  respect,  studiously  imitate 
the  example  of  their  leaders.  For  instance,  who  imitates 
the  virtue  of  the  excellent  Lucius  Lucullus  ? But  how  many 
there  are  who  have  imitated  the  magnificence  of  his  villas. 
To  which  certainly  a bound  ought  to  be  set,  and  it  reduced  to 
moderation,  and  the  same  spirit  of  moderation  ought  to  be 
extended  to  all  the  practice  and  economy  of  life.  But  of  this 
enough. 

Now  in  undertaking  every  action  we  are  to  regard  three 
things.  First,  that  appetite  be  subservient  to  reason,  than 
which  there  is  no  condition  better  fitted  for  preserving  the 
moral  duties.  We  are,  secondly,  to  examine  how  important 
the  object  in  which  we  desire  to  accomplish,  that  our  atten- 
tion or  labor  may  be  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  occasion 
requires.  Thirdly,  we  are  to  take  carS  that  every  thing 
that  comes  under  the  head  of  magnificence  and  dignity  should 
be  well  regulated.  Now,  the  best  regulation  is,  to  observe 
that  some  graceful  propriety  which  I have  recommended,  and 
to  go  no  further.  13ut  of  those  three  heads,  the  most  excellent 
is,  that  of  making  our  appetites  subservient  to  our  reason. 

XL.  I am  now  to  speak  concerning  the  order  and  the 
timing  of  things.  In  this  science  is  comprehended  what  the 
Greek  call  not  that  which  we  Romans  call  mode- 

ration, an  expression  that  implies  keeping  within  bounds ; 
whereas  that  is  siTa^icc^  in  which  the  preservation  of  order  is 


CHAP.  XL. 


CICERO’S  OEEICES. 


69 


involved.  This  duty,  which  we  will  denominate  moderation, 
is  defined  by  the  Stoics  as  those  things  which  are  either  said 
or  done  in  their  appropriate  places  of  ranging.  Therefore, 
the  signification  of  order  and  of  arrangement  seems  to  be 
the  same.  For  they  define  order  to  be  the  disposing  of 
things  into  fitting  and  convenient  places.  Now  they  tell 
us  that  the  appropriate  place  of  an  action  is  the  oppor- 
tunity of  doing  it.  The  proper  opportunity  for  action 
being  called  by  the  Greeks  evnccgla^  and  by  the  Latins, 
occasio,  or  occasion.  Thus,  as  I have  already  observed,  that 
modestia  which  we  have  thus  explained  is  the  knowledge  of 
acting  according  to  the  fitness  of  a conjuncture. 

But  prudence,  of  which  we  have  treated  in  the  beginning 
of  this  book,  may  admit  of  the  same  definition.  Under  this 
head,  however,  I speak  of  moderation  and  temperance,  and 
the  like  virtues.  Therefore,  the  considerations  which  belong 
to  prudence  have  been  treated  in  their  proper  place.  But  at 
present  I am  to  treat  of  those  virtues  I have  been  so  long 
speaking  of,  which  relate  to  morality,  and  the  approbation  of 
those  with  whom  we  live. 

Such  then  should  be  the  regularity  of  all  our  actions,  that 
in  the  economy  of  life,  as  in  a connected  discourse,  all  things 
may  agree  and  correspond.  For  it  would  be  unbecoming 
and  highly  blamable,  should  we,  when  upon  a serious 
subject,  introduce  the  language  of  the  jovial  or  the  effemi- 
nate. When  Pericles  had  for  his  colleague  in  the  prsetoi- 
ship  Sophocles  the  poet,  and  as  they  were  discoursing  upon 
their  joint  ofiicial  duty,  a beautiful  boy  by  chance  passed  by, 
Sophocles  exclaimed,  “ What  a charming  boy,  Pericles !”  but 
Pericles  very  properly  told  him,  “A  magistrate  ought  to 
keep  not  only  his  hands,  but  his  eyes  under  restraint.”  Nov/ 
Sophocles,  had  he  said  the  same  thing  at  a trial  of  athletic 
performers  would  not  have  been  liable  to  this  just  reprimand, 
such  importance  there  is  in  the  time  and  place.  So,  too,  a 
man,  who  is  going  to  plead  a cause,  if  on  a journey  or  in  a 
walk  he  should  muse  or  appear  to  himself  more  thoughtful 
than  ordinary,  he  is  not  blamed:  but  should  he  do  this 
at  an  entertainment,  he  would  seem  ill-bred  for  not  dis- 
tingnishing  times. 

But  those  actions  that  are  in  wide  discrepancy  with  good- 
breeding, such,  for  instance,  as  singing  in  the  forum,  or 


70 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


any  sucli  absurdity,  are  so  easily  discernible,  that  they  re- 
quire no  great  degree  of  reprehension  or  advice.  But  faults 
that  seem  to  be  inconsiderable,  and  such  as  are  discernible 
only  by  a few,  are  to  be  more  carefully  avoided.  As  in 
lutes  or  pipes,  however  little  they  be  out  of  tune,  it  is  per- 
ceived by  a practiced  ear ; so  in  life  we  are  to  guard  against 
all  discrepancy,  and  the  rather  as  the  harmony  of  morals  is 
greater  and  much  more  valuable  than  that  of  sounds. 

XLI.  Thus,  as  the  ear  is  sensible  to  the  smallest  discord 
in  musical  instruments,  so  we,  if  we  desire  to  be  accurate 
and  attentive  observers  of  faults,  may  make  great  discoveries 
from  very  trifling  circumstances.  The  cast  of  the  eye,  the 
bending  or  unbending  of  the  brow,  an  air  of  dejection  or 
cheerfulness,  laughter,  the  tone  of  words,  silence,  the  raising 
or  falling  of  the  voice,  and  the  like  circumstances,  we  may 
easily  form  a judgment  which  of  them  are  in  their  pro- 
per state,  and  which  of  them  are  in  discord  with  duty 
and  nature.  Now  in  this  case,  it  is  advisable  to  judge 
from  others,  of  the  condition  and  properties  of  every  one  of 
those,  so  that  we  ourselves  may  avoid  those  things  that  are 
unbecoming  in  others.  For  it  happens,  I know  not  how,  that 
we  perceive  what  is  defective  more  readily  in  others  than  we 
do  in  ourselves.  Therefore,  when  masters  mimic  the  faults 
of  boys  that  they  may  amend  them,  those  boys  are  most 
easily  corrected. 

Neither  is  it  improper,  in  order  to  fix  our  choice  in  matters 
which  involve  a doubt,  if  we  apply  to  men  of  learning  and 
also  of  experience,  and  learn  what  they  think  of  the  several 
kinds  of  duty  ; for  the  greatest  part  of  such  men  are  usually 
led  to  that  conclusion  to  which  nature  herself  directs  ; and  in 
these  cases,  we  are  to  examine  not  only  what  a man  says, 
but  what  he  thinks,  and  upon  what  ground  he  thinks  it. 
For  as  painters,  statuaries,  and  even  poets,  want  to  have 
their  works  canvassed  by  the  public  in  order  to  correct  any 
thing  that  is  generally  condemned,  and  examine  both  by 
themselves  and  with  others  where  the  defect  lies ; thus  we 
ought  to  make  use  of  the  judgment  of  others  to  do,  and  not 
to  do,  to  alter  and  correct,  a great  many  things. 

As  to  actions  resulting  from  the  customs  or  civil  institu- 
tions of  a people,  no  precepts  can  be  laid  down  ; for  those 
\^ery  institutions  are  precepts  in  themselves.  Nor  ought  men 


CHAP.  XLI. 


CICERO’S  OFEICES. 


11 


to  be  under  the  mistake  to  imagine  that  if  Socrates  or 
Aristippus  acted  or  spoke  in  opposition  to  the  manners  and 
civil  constitutions  of  their  country,  they  themselves  have  a 
similar  license.^  For  this  was  a right  they  acquired  by  their 

1 There  are  two  things  in  this  passage  which  must  excite  surprise  ; the 
first,  that  Cicero  should  regard  those  actions  as  immoral  in  the  general- 
ity of  society  which  he  justifies  in  the  case  of  two  individuals  on  the 
sole  ground  of  their  intellectual  pre-eminence.  For  this  must  be  the 
sole  ground  of  the  distinction ; inasmuch  as,  if  a moral  superiority  be 
admitted  as  a justifying  consideration  in  the  case  of  Socrates,  it  can 
scarcely  be  denied  to  any  other  individual  who  might  be  led  to  the  adop- 
tion of  a similar  course.  The  second  is,  that  the  customs  and  institu- 
tions of  a country  should  be  invested  by  Cicero  with  the  powers  of  moral 
obligation ; nor,  considering  the  general  tenor  of  Cicero’s  ethics,  is  this 
the  less  surprising,  from  the  fact  that  in  modern  times  the  same  principle 
was  carried  by  Hobbes  to  a far  greater  extent.  “According  to  him,” 
says  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  “ the  perfect  state  of  a community  is  where 
law  prescribes  the  religion  and  morality  of  the  people,  and  where  the 
will  of  an  absolute  sovereign  is  the  sole  fountain  of  law.”  The  insuf- 
ficiency both  of  the  law  of  the  land,  and  of  that  conventional  influence 
which  in  modern  times  has  been  designated  the  law  of  honor  as  a code 
of  morality  is  admirably  shown  by  Paley  in  the  following  passage : — 

“ The  Law  of  Honor  is  a system  of  rules  constructed  by  people  of 
fashion,  and  calculated  to  facilitate  their  intercourse  with  one  another ; 
and  for  no  other  purpose.  Consequently,  nothing  is  adverted  to  by  tho 
law  of  honor,  but  what  tends  to  incommode  this  intercourse.  Hence  this 
law  only  prescribes  and  regulates  the  duties  betwixt  equals;  omitting  such 
as  relate  to  the  Supreme  Being,  as  well  as  those  which  we  owe  to  our 
inferiors.  For  which  reason,  profaneness,  neglect  of  public  worship  or 
private  devotion,  cruelty  to  servants,  rigorous  treatment  of  tenants  or 
other  dependents,  want  of  charity  to  tho  poor,  injuries  done  to  trades- 
men by  insolvency  or  delay  of  payment,  with  numberless  examples  of 
the  same  kind,  are  accounted  no  breaches  of  honor ; because  a man  is 
not  a less  agreeable  companion  for  these  vices,  nor  the  worse  to  deal 
with  in  those  concerns  which  are  usually  transacted  between  one  gentle- 
man and  another.  Again,  the  law  of  honor,  being  constituted  by  men 
occupied  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and  for  the  mutual  conveniency  of 
such  men,  will  be  found,  as  might  be  expected  from  the  character  and 
design  of  the  law-makers,  to  be,  in  most  instances,  favorable  to  the 
licentious  indulgence  of  the  natural  passions.  Thus,  it  allows  of  forni- 
cation, adultery,  drunkenness,  prodigality,  duelling,  and  of  revenge  in 
the  extreme ; and  lays  no  stress  upon  the  virtues  opposite  to  these. 

“ That  part  of  mankind,  who  are  beneath  the  law  of  honor,  often  make 
the  Law  of  the  Land  their  rules  of  life ; that  is,  they  are  satisfied  with 
themselves,  so  long  as  they  do  or  omit  nothing,  for  the  doing  or  omitting 
of  which  the  law  can  punish  them.  "Whereas  every  system  of  human 
laws,  considered  as  a rule  of  life,  labors  under  the  two  following  de- 
fects;— 1.  Human  laws  omit  many  duties,  as  not  objects  of  compulsion; 


72 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


great  and  superhuman  endowments.  But  as  to  the  whole 
system  of  the  Cynics ; we  are  absolutely  to  reject  it,  because 
it  is  inconsistent  with  moral  susceptibility  without  which 
nothing  can  be  honest,  nothing  can  be  virtuous. 

Now  it  is  our  duty  to  esteem  and  to  honor,  in  the  same 
manner  as  if  they  were  dignified  with  titles  or  vested  with 
command,  those  men  whose  lives  have  been  conspicuous  for 
great  and  glorious  actions,  who  feel  rightly  toward  the  state 
and  deserve  well  or  have  deserved  well  of  their  country. 
We  are  likewise  to  have  a great  regard  for  old  age,  to  pay  a 
deference  to  magistrates ; to  distinguish  between  (what  we 
owe  to)  a fellow-citizen  and  a foreigner,  and  to  consider  whether 
that  foreigner  comes  in  a public  or  a private  capacity.  In 
short,  not  to  dwell  on  particulars,  we  ought  to  regard,  to 
cultivate,  and  to  promote  the  good  will  and  the  social  welfare 
of  all  mankind. 

XLII.  Now  with  regard  to  what  arts  and  means  of  ac- 
quiring wealth  are  to  be  regarded  as  worthy  and  what  dis- 
reputable, we  have  been  taught  as  follows.  In  the  first  place, 
those  sources  of  emolument  are  condemned  that  incur  the 
public  hatred ; such  as  those  of  tax-gatherers  and  usurers. 
We  are  likewise  to  account  as  ungenteel  and  mean  the  gains 
of  all  hired  workmen,  whose  source  of  profit  is  not  their  art 
but  their  labor  ; for  their  very  wages  are  the  consideration  of 
their  servitude.  We  are  likewise  to  despise  all  who  retail 
from  merchants  goods  for  prompt  sale ; for  they  never  can  suc- 
ceed unless  they  lie  most  abominably.  Now  nothing  is 
more  disgraceful  than  insincerity.  All  mechanical  laborers 
are  by  their  profession  mean.  For  a workshop  can  contain 
nothing  befitting  a gentleman.  Least  of  all  are  those  trades 

such  as  piety  to  God,  bounty  to  the  poor,  forgiveness  of  injuries,  educa- 
tion of  children,  gratitude  to  benefactors.  The  law  never  speaks  but  to 
command,  nor  commands  but  where  it  can  compel ; consequently  those 
duties,  which  by  their  nature  must  be  voluntary^  are  left  out  of  the 
statute-book,  as  lying  beyond  the  reach  of  its  operation  and  authority. 
2.  Human  laws  permit,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  suffer  to  go  un- 
punished, many  crimes,  because  they  are  incapable  of  being  defined  by 
any  previous  description.  Of  which  nature  are  luxury,  prodigality,  par- 
tiality in  voting  at  those  elections  in  which  the  qualifications  of  the 
candidate  ought  to  determine  the  success,  caprice  in  the  disposition  of 
men’s  fortunes  at  their  death,  disrespect  to  parents,  and  a multitude  of 
similar  examples.’’ — “ Moral  and  Political  Philosophy,”  book  i.  caps.  2 & 3. 


CHAP.  XLIII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


is 


to  be  approved  that  serve  the  purposes  of  sensuality,  such 
as  (to  speak  after  Terence)  fishmongers,  butchers,  cooks, 
pastry-cooks,  and  fishermen;  to  whom  we  shall  add,  if  you 
j)lease,  perfumers,  dancers,  and  the  whole  tribe  of  gamesters.^ 

But  those  professions  that  involve  a higher  degree  of  in- 
telligence or  a greater  amount  of  utility,  such  as  medicine, 
architecture,  the  teaching  the  liberal  arts,  are  honorable 
in  those  to  whose  rank  in  life  they  are  suited.  As  to 
merchandizing,  if  on  a small  scale  it  is  mean  ; but  if  it  is 
extensive  and  rich,  bring  numerous  commodities  from  all 
parts  of  the  world,  and  giving  bread  to  numbers  without 
fraud,  it  is  not  so  despicaWe.  But  if  a merchant,  satiated, 
or  rather  satisfied  with  his  profits,  as  he  sometimes  used 
to  leave  the  open  sea  and  make  the  harbor,  shall  from 
the  harbor  step  into  an  estate  and  lands ; such  a man  seems 
most  justly  deserving  of  praise.  For  of  all  gainful  profes- 
sions, nothing  is  better,  nothing  more  pleasing,  nothing 
more  delightful,  nothing  better  becomes  a well-bred  man 
than  agriculture.  But  as  I have  handled  that  subject  at 
large  in  my  Cato  Major,  you  can  draw  from  thence  all  that 
falls  under  this  head. 

XLIII.  I have  I think  sufiiciently  explained  in  what 
manner  the  duties  are  derived  from  the  constituent  parts  of 
virtue.  Xow  it  often  may  happen  that  an  emulation  and 
a contest  may  arise  among  things  that  are  in  themselves 
virtuous; — of  two  virtuous  actions  which  is  preferable.  A 
division  that  Panaetius  has  ovelooked.  For  as  all  virtue  is 
the  result  of  four  qualities,  prudence,  justice,  magnanimity 


* There  is,  perhaps,  no  passage  in  this  work  more  short-sighted  and 
ridiculous  than  the  above,  and  none  which  more  clearly  indicates  the 
practical  fallaciousness  of  all  systems  of  morals  framed  in  ignorance  of 
those  views  of  human  nature  which  are  derived  from  Christianity  alone. 
To  stigmatize  as  morally  base  those  occupations  which  are  necessary  to 
the  comfort  of  society,  is  to  maintain  the  very  opposite  of  his  own  fun- 
damental principle,  by  affirming  that  immorality  and  not  morality  is 
necessary  to  the  happiness  of  mankind.  Indeed,  the  attribution  of  any 
moral  character  to  mere  industrial  pursuits,  is  an  absurdity  which  Cicero 
would  probably  not  have  incurred  had  he  lived  but  a few  years  later, 
and  become  acquainted  as  he  might,  without  leaving  Rome,  with  those 
fishermen  and  that  tent-maker  “ of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy,” 
and  through  them  with  that  Being  in  whose  sight,  amid  all  the  irregu- 
larities of  time,  “ the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together.” 

4 


74 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  1. 


and  moderation;  so  in  the  choice  of  a duty,  those  qualities 
must  necessarily  come  in  competition  with  one  another. 

I am  therefore  of  opinion  that  the  duties  arising  from  the 
social  relations  are  more  agreeable  to  nature  than  those  that 
are  merely  notional.  This  may  be  confirmed  from  the  fol- 
lowing argument.  Supposing  that  this  kind  of  life  should 
befall  a wise  man,  that  in  an  affluence  of  ail  things  he  might 
be  able  with  great  leisure  to  contemplate  and  attend  to  every 
object  that  is  worthy  his  knowledge ; yet  if  his  condition 
be  so  solitary  as  to  have  no  company  with  mankind,  he  would 
prefer  death  to  it.  Of  all  virtues,  the  most  leading  is  that 
wisdom  which  the  Greeks  call  aoqpta,  for  by  that  sagacity 
which  they  term  (pgovr^cng  we  understand  quite  another  thing, 
as  it  implies  the  knowledge  of  what  things  are  to  be  de- 
sired, and  what  to  be  avoided.  But  that  wisdom  which  I 
have  stated  to  be  the  chief,  is  the  knowledge  of  things  divine 
and  human,  which  comprehends  the  fellowship  of  gods  and 
men,  and  their  society  within  themselves.  If  that  be,  as 
it  certainly  is,  the  highest  of  all  objects,  it  follows  of 
course  that  the  duty  resulting  from  this  fellowship  is  the 
highest  of  all  duties.  For  the  knowledge  and  contem- 
plation of  nature  is  in  a manner  lame  and  unfinished,  if  it 
is  followed  by  no  activity ; now  activity  is  most  perspic- 
uous when  it  is  exerted  in  protecting  the  rights  of  mankind. 

It  therefore  has  reference  to  the  social  interests  of  the 
human  race,  and  is  for  that  reason  preferable  to  knowledge ; 
and  this  every  virtuous  man  maintains  and  exhibits  in  prac- 
tice. For  who  is  so  eager  in  pursuing  and  examining  the 
nature  of  things,  that  if,  while  he  is  handling  and  con- 
templating the  noblest  objects  of  knowledge,  the  peril  and 
crisis  of  his  country  is  made  known  to  him,  and  that  it  is  in 
his  power  to  assist  and  relieve  her,  would  not  instantly  aban- 
don and  fling  from  him  all  those  studies,  even  though  he 
thought  he  would  be  enabled  to  number  the  stars,  or  measure 
the  dimensions  of  the  world?  And  he  would  do  the  same 
were  the  safety  of  a friend  or  a parent  concerned  or  endan- 
gered. From  this  consideration  I infer,  that  the  duties  of 
justice  are  preferable  to  the  studies  and  duties  of  knowledge, 
relating  as  they  do  to  the  interests  of  the  human  race,  to  which 
no  anterior  consideration  ought  to  exist  in  the  mind  of  man. 

XLIV.  But  some  have  employed  their  whole  lives  in  the 


CHAP.  XLIV. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


75 


pursuits  of  knowledge,  and  yet  have  not  declined  to  contrib- 
ute to  the  utility  and  advantage  of  men.  For  they  have 
even  instructed  many  how  they  ought  to  be  better  citizens  and 
more  useful  to  their  country.  Thus  Lysis,  the  Pythagorean  edu- 
cated Epaminondas  of  Thebes,  as  did  Plato  Dion  of  Syracuse, 
and  so  of  many  others  ; and  as  to  whatever  services  I have  per- 
formed, if  I have  performed  any  to  the  state,  I came  to  it  after 
being  furnished  and  adorned  with  knowledge  by  teachers  and 
learning. 

Nor  do  those  philosophers  only  instruct  and  educate  those 
who  are  desirous  of  learning  while  alive  and  present  among 
us ; but  they  continue  to  do  the  same  after  death,  by  the  monu- 
ments of  their  learning  ; for  they  neglect  no  point  that  relates 
to  the  constitution,  the  manners  and  the  morals  of  their  coun- 
try ; so  that  it  appears  as  if  they  had  dedicated  all  their  leisure 
to  our  advantage.  Thus  while  they  are  themselves  devoted 
to  the  studies  of  learning  and  wisdom,  they  make  their  under- 
standing and  their  skill  chiefly  available  to  the  service  of  man- 
kind. It  is  therefore  more  serviceable  to  the  public  for  a man  to 
discourse  copiously,  provided  it  is  to  the  purpose,  than  for  a 
man  to  think  ever  so  accurately  without  the  power  of  expres- 
sion ; the  reason  is,  because  thought  terminates  in  itself  alone, 
but  discourse  affects  those  with  whom  we  are  connected  in  a 
community. 

Now  as  the  swarms  of  bees  do  not  assemble  in  order  to 
form  the  honey-comb,  but  form  the  honey-comb  because  they 
are  by  nature  gregarious ; so,  and  in  a far  greater  degree, 
men  being  associated  by  nature,  manifest  their  skill  in  thinking 
and  acting.  Therefore,  unless  knowledge  is  connected  with 
that  virtue  which  consists  in  doing  service  to  mankind,  that  is, 
in  improving  human  society,  it  would  seem  to  be  but  solitary 
and  barren. 

In  like  manner  greatness  of  soul,  when  utterly  disunited 
from  the  company  and  society  of  men,  becomes  a kind  of  un- 
couth ferocity.  Hence  it  follows  that  the  company  and  the 
community  of  men  are  preferable  to  mere  speculative  knowledge. 

Neither  is  that  maxim  true  which  is  affirmed  by  some,  that 
human  communities  and  societies  were  instituted  from  the 
necessity  of  our  condition,  because  we  can  not  without  the 
help  of  others  supply  what  our  nature  requires ; and  that  if  we 
coidd  be  furnished,  as  by  a kind  of  magic  wand,  with  everything 


76 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  I. 


that  relates  to  food  and  raiment,  that  then  every  man  of  excel- 
ling genius,  laying  aside  all  other  occupations,  would  apply  him- 
self to  knowledge  and  learning.  The  fact  is  not  so ; for  he 
would  fly  from  solitude  and  look  out  for  a companion  in  his  pur- 
suits ; and  would  desire  sometimes  to  teach  and  sometimes  to 
learn,  sometimes  to  listen  and  sometimes  to  speak.  Every  duty 
therefore  that  operates  for  the  good  of  human  community  and 
society,  is  preferable  to  that  duty  which  is  limited  to  speculation 
»md  knowledge. 

XLV.  Here  perhaps  it  should  be  inquired,  whether  the 
duties  of  that  society  which  is  most  suitable  to  nature  are 
preferable  to  moderation  and  decency?  By  no  means.  For. 
some  things  are  partly  so  disgraceful,  and  partly  so  criminal 
in  their  nature,  that  a wise  man  would  not  commit  them, 
even  to  save  his  country.  Posidonius  has  collected  very  many 
such ; but  they  are  so  obscene  and  so  shocking  that  it  would 
be  scandalous  even  to  name  them.  A wise  man  would  not  un- 
dertake such  things,  even  to  serve  his  country,  nor  would  his 
country  undertake  them  to  serve  herself.  But  it  fortunately 
happens,  that  there  never  can  be  a conjuncture,  when  the  public 
interest  shall  require  from  a wise  man  the  performance  of  such 
actions. 

Hence  it  follows,  that  in  the  choice  of  our  duties  we  are 
to  prefer  that  kind  of  duty  that  contributes  to  the  good  of 
society.  For  well-directed  action  is  always  the  result  of 
knowledge  and  prudence.  And  therefore  it  is  of  more  con- 
sequence to  act  properly,  than  to  deliberate  justly.  Thus 
much  then  may  suflSce  on  this  subject ; for  this  topic  has 
now  been  so  fully  laid  open,  that  it  is  easy  for  every  man  in 
the  study  of  his  duties,  to  see  which  is  preferable.  Now 
in  society  there  are  degrees  of  duties  by  which  every  man 
may  understand  what  belongs  to  himself.  The  first  is  owing 
to  the  immortal  gods,  the  second  to  our  country,  the  third 
to  our  parents,  and  lastly  to  others  through  difierent  gradations. 

From  these  arguments  thus  briefly  stated  we  perceive  that 
men  are  sometimes  not  only  in  doubt,  whether  a thing  is  vir- 
tuous or  disgraceful ; but  likewise  when  two  virtuous  things  are 
proposed,  which  is  more  so.  This  head,  as  I said  before,  was 
omitted  by  Panaetius.  Let  us  now  proceed  to  what  remains  of 
our  subject. 


CHAP.  I. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


77 


BOOK  II. 

Marcus,  my  Son, 

I THINK  I have  in  the  former  Book  sufficiently  explained 
in  what  manner  our  duties  are  derived  from  morality,  and 
every  kind  of  virtue.  It  now  remains  that  I treat  of  those 
kinds  of  duties  that  relate  to  the  improvement  of  life,  and 
to  the  acquirement  of  those  means  which  men  employ  for 
the  attainment  of  wealth  and  interest.  In  this  inquiry,  as  I 
have  already  observed,  I will  treat  of  what  is  useful,  and 
what  is  not  so.  Of  several  utilities,  I shall  speak  of  that  which 
is  more  useful,  or  most  so.  Of  all  this  I shall  treat,  after  pre- 
mising a few  words  concerning  my  own  plan  of  life  and  choice 
of  pursuits. 

Although  my  works  have  prompted  a great  many  to  the 
exercise  not  only  of  reading  but  of  writing,  yet  I sometimes 
am  apprehensive  that  the  name  of  philosophy  is  offensive  to 
some  worthy  men,  and  that  they  are  surprised  at  my  having 
employed  so  much  of  my  pains  and  time  iii  that  study.  For 
my  part,  as  long  as  the  state  was  under  the  management  of  those 
into  whose  hands  she  had  committed  herself,  I applied  to  it  all 
my  attention  and  thought.  But  when  the  government  was 
engrossed  by  one  person,  when  there  was  an  end  of  all  public 
deliberation  and  authority;  when  I in  short  had  lost  those 
excellent  patriots  who  were  my  associates  in  the  protection  of 
my  country,  I neither  abandoned  myself  to  that  anguish  of  spirit 
which  had  I given  way  to  it,  must  have  consumed  me,  nor  did 
I indulge  those  pleasures  that  are  disgraceful  to  a man  of 
learning.  • 

Would  that  the  constitution  had  remained  in  its  original  state ; 
and  that  it  had  not  fallen  into  the  hands  of  men  whose  aim  was 
not  to  alter  but  to  destroy  it ! For  then  I would  first,  as  I was  wont 


78 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  II. 


to  do  when  our  government  existed,  have  employed  my  labors  in 
action  rather  than  in  writing ; and  in  the  next  place,  in  my  writ- 
ings I should  have  recorded  my  own  pleadings  as  I had  frequent- 
ly done,  and  not  such  subjects  as  the  present.  But  when  the 
constitution,  to  which  all  my  care,  thoughts,  and  labor  used  to 
be  devoted,  ceased  to  exist,  then  those  public  and  senatorial 
studies  were  silenced. 

But  as  my  mind  could  not  be  inactive,  and  as  my  early  life 
had  been  employed  in  these  studies,  I thought  that  they  might 
most  honorably  be  laid  aside  by  betaking  myself  anew  to 
philosophy,  having,  when  young,  spent  a great  deal  of  my  time 
in  its  study,  with  a view  to  improvement.  When  I afterward 
began  to  court  public  offices  and  devoted  myself  entirely  to  the 
service  of  my  country,  I had  so  much  room  for  philosophy  as 
the  time  that  remained  over  from  the  business  of  my  friends  and 
the  public.  But  I spent  it  all  in  reading,  having  no  leisure  for 
writing. 

n.  In  the  midst  of  the  greatest  calamities,  therefore,  I seem 
to  have  realized  the  advantage  that  I have  reduced  into  writing, 
matters  in  which  my  countrymen  were  not  sufficiently  instructed, 
and  which  were  most  worthy  their  attention.  For  in  the  name 
of  the  gods,  what  is  more  desirable,  what  is  more  excellent,  than 
wisdom  ? What  is  better  for  man  ? what  more  worthy  of  him  ? 
They  therefore  who  court  her  are  termed  philosophers ; for 
philosophy,  if  it  is  to  be  interpreted,  implies  nothing  but  the  love 
of  wisdom. 

Now  the  ancient  philosophers  defined  wisdom  to  be  the 
knowledge  of  things  divine  and  human,  and  of  the  causes  by 
which  these  things  are  regulated  ; a study  that  if  any  man 
despises,  I j^ow  not  what  he  can  think  deserving  of  es- 
teem. 

For  if  we  seek  the  entertainment  of  the  mind,  or  a respite 
from  cares,  which  is  comparable  to  those  pursuits  that  are 
always  searching  out  somewhat  that  relates  to  and  secures  the 
welfare  and  happiness  of  life  ? Or  if  we  regard  the  principles 
of  self-consistency  and  ^nrtue,  either  this  is  the  art,  or  there  is 
absolutely  no  art  by  which  we  can  attain  them.  And  to  say 
that  there  is  no  art  for  the  attainment  of  the  highest  objects, 
when  we  see  that  none  of  the  most  inconsiderable  are  without  it, 
is  the  language  of  men  who  speak  without  consideration,  and 
who  mistake  in  the  most  important  matters.  Now  if  there  is  any 


CHAP.  III. 


OICJERO’S  OFFICES. 


79 


school  of  virtue,  where  can  it  be  found,  if  you  abandon  this 
method  of  study  ? But  it  is  usual  to  treat  these  subjects  more 
particularly  when  we  exhort  to  philosophy,  which  I have  done 
in  another  book.  At  this  time  my  intention  was  only  to 
explain  the  reasons  why,  being  divested  of  all  offices  of 
state,  I chose  to  apply  myself  to  this  study  preferable  to  all 
others. 

Now  an  objection  is  brought  against  me,  and  indeed  by  some 
men  of  learning  and  knowledge,  who  inquire  whether  I act  con- 
sistently with  myself,  when,  though  I affirm  that  nothing  can  bo 
certainly  known,  I treat  upon  different  subjects,  and  when,  as 
now,  I am  investigating  the  principles  of  moral  duty.  I could 
wish  such  persons  were  thoroughly  acquainted  with  my  way  of 
thinking.  I am  not  one  of  those  whose  reason  is  always  wander- 
ing in  the  midst  of  uncertainty  and  never  has  any  thing  to  pur- 
sue. For  if  we  abolish  all  the  rules,  not  only  of  reasoning  but 
of  living,  what  must  become  of  reason,  nay  of  life  itself?  For 
my  own  part,  while  others  mention  some  things  to  be  certain, 
and  others  uncertain,  I say,  on  the  other  side,  that  some  things 
are  probable,  and  others  not  so. 

What,  therefore,  hinders  me  from  following  whatever 
appears  to  me  to  be  most  probable,  and  from  rejecting  what 
is  otherwise  ; and,  while  I avoid  the  arrogance  of  dogmatizing, 
from  escaping  that  recklessness  which  is  most  inconsistent  with 
wisdom  ? Now  all  subjects  are  disputed  by  our  sect,  because 
this  very  probability  can  not  appear,  unless  there  be  a com- 
parison of  the  arguments  on  both  sides.  But,  if  I mistake 
not,  I have  with  sufficient  accuracy  explained  these  points  in 
my  Academics.  As  to  you,  my  dear  Cicero,  though  you  are 
now  employed  in  the  study  of  the  oldest  and  noblest  philo- 
sophy under  Cratippus,  who  greatly  resembles  those  who  have 
propounded  those  noble  principles,  yet  I was  unwilling  that 
these  my  sentiments,  which  are  so  corresponding  with  your  sys- 
tern,  should  be  known  to  you.  But  to  proceed  in  what  I 
propose.  A 

ni.  Having  laid  down  the  five  principles  upon  which  we 
pursue  our  duty,  two  of  which  relate  to  propriety  and  virtue,  two 
to  the  enjoyments  of  life,  such  as  wealth,  interest,  and  power, 
the  fifth  to  the  forming  of  a right  judgment  in  any  case,  if  there 
should  appear  to  be  any  clashing  between  the  principles  I have 
mentioned,  the  part  assigned  to  virtue  is  concluded,  and  with 


80 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  Vi, 


that  I desire  you  should  be  thoroughly  acquainted.  "Now  the 
subject  I am  now  to  treat  of  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  what 
we  call  expediency ; in  which  matter  custom  has  so  declined 
and  gradually  deviated  from  the  right  path,  that,  separating 
virtue  from  expediency,  it  has  determined  that  some  things  may 
be  virtuous  that  are  not  expedient,  and  some  expedient  which 
are  not  virtuous ; than  which  doctrine  nothing  more  pernicious 
can  be  introduced  into  human  life. 

It  is  indeed  with  strictness  and  honesty  that  philosophers, 
and  those  of  the  highest  reputation,  distinguish  in  idea  those 
three  principles  which  really  are  blended  together.  For  they 
give  it  as  their  opinion  that  whatever  is  just  is  expedient; 
and  in  like  manner  whatever  is  virtuous  is  just ; from  whence 
it  follows  that  whatever  is  virtuous  is  also  expedient.  Those 
who  do  not  perceive  this  distinction  often  admire  crafty  and 
cunning  men,  and  mistake  knavery  for  wisdom.  The  error  of 
such  ought  to  be  eradicated  ; and  every  notion  ought  to  be  re- 
duced to  this  hope,  that  men  may  attain  the  ends  they  propose, 
by  virtuous  designs  and  just  actions,  and  not  by  dishonesty  and 
wickedness. 

The  things  then  that  pertain  to  the  preservation  of  human 
life  are  partly  inanimate,  such  as  gold,  silver,  the  fruits  of  the 
earth,  and  the  like ; and  partly  animal,  which  have  their 
peculiar  instincts  and  affections.  Now  of  these  some  are 
void  of,  and  some  are  endowed  with,  reason.  The  animals 
void  of  reason  are  horses,  oxen,  with  other  brute  creatures, 
and  bees,  who  by  their  labors  contribute  somewhat  to  the 
service  and  condition  of  mankind.  As  to  the  animals  endowed 
with  reason,  they  are  of  two  kinds,  one  the  gods,  the  other 
men.  Piety  and  sanctity  will  render  the  gods  propitious; 
and  next  to  the  gods  mankind  are  most  useful  to  men. 
(The  same  division  holds  as  to  things  that  are  hurtful  and 
prejudicial.  But  as  we  are  not  to  suppose  the  gods  to  be 
injurious  to  mankind,  excluding  them,  man  appears  to  be 
most  hurtful  to  man).  For  even  the  very  inanimate  things 
I have  mentioned,  are  generally  procured  through  man’s 
labor;  nor  should  we  have  had  them  but  by  his  art  and 
industry,  nor  can  we  apply  them  but  by  his  management. 
For  there  could  neither  be  the  preservation  of  health,  navi- 
gation, nor  the  gathering  and  preserving  the  corn  and  other 
fruits,  without  the  industry  of  mankind.  And  certainly 


CHAP.  Y. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


81 


there  could  have  been  no  exportation  of  things  in  which  we 
abound,  and  importation  of  those  which  we  want,  had  not 
mankind  applied  themselves  to  those  employments.  In  like 
manner,  neither  could  stones  be  hewn  for  our  use,  nor  iron, 
nor  brass,  nor  gold,  nor  silver,  be  dug  from  the  earth,  but  by 
the  toil  and  art  of  man. 

IV.  As  to  buildings,  by  which  either  the  violence  of  the 
cold  is  repelled,  or  the  inconveniences  of  the  heat  mitigated, 
how  could  they  have  originally  been  given  to  the  human 
race,  or  afterward  repaired  when  ruined  by  tempests,  earth- 
quakes, or  time,  had  not  community  of  life  taught  us  to 
seek  the  aid  of  man  against  such  influences?  Moreover, 
from  whence  but  from  the  labor  of  man  could  we  have  had 
aqueducts,  the  cuts  of  rivers,  the  irrigation  of  the  land, 
dams  opposed  to  streams,  and  artificial  harbors  ? From 
those  and  a great  many  other  instances,  it  is  plain  that  we 
could  by  no  manner  of  means  have,  without  the  hand  and 
industry  of  man,  reaped  the  benefits  and  advantages  arising 
from  such  things  as  are  inanimate.  In  short,  what  advan- 
tage and  convenience  could  have  been  realized  from  the 
brute  creation,  had  not  men  assisted  ? Men,  undoubted- 
ly, were  the  first  who  discovered  what  useful  result  we 
might  realize  from  every  animal ; nor  could  we  even  at 
this  time  either  feed,  tame,  preserve,  or  derive  from  them 
advantages  suited  to  the  occasion,  without  the  help  of  man. 
And  it  is  by  the  same  that  such  as  are  hurtful  are  destroyed, 
and  such  as  may  be  useful  are  taken.  Why  should  I enume- 
rate the  variety  of  arts  without  which  life  could  by  no  means 
be  sustained  ? For  did  not  so  many  arts  minister  to  us,  what 
could  succor  the  sick,  or  constitute  the  pleasure  of  the 
healthy,  or  supply  food  and  clothing  ? 

Polished  by  those  arts,  the  life  of  man  is  so  different  from 
the  mode  of  life  and  habits  of  brutes.  Cities,  too,  neither 
could  have  been  built  nor  peopled  but  by  the  associa- 
tion of  men : hence  were  established  laws  and  customs,  the 
equitable  definition  of  rights,  and  the  regulated  order  of  life. 
Then  followed  gentleness  of  disposition  and  love  of  morality ; 
and  the  result  was  that  life  was  more  protected,  and  that  by 
giving  and  receiving,  and  by  the  exchange  of  resources  and 
articles  of  wealth,  we  wanted  for  nothing. 

Y.  We  are  more  prolix  than  is  necessary  on  this  head. 

4^ 


82 


CICERO’S  OFFICES 


BOOK  n. 


For  to  whom  is  not  that  self-evident  for  which  Pansetius 
employs  a great  many  words,  that  no  man,  whether  he  be  a 
commander  of  an  army,  or  a leader  in  the  state,  has  ever  been 
able  to  perform  great  and  salutary  achievements  without  the 
zealous  co-operation  of  men  ? As  instances  of  this,  he  mentions 
Themistocles,  Pericles,  Cyrus,  Alexander,  and  Agesilaus,  who, 
he  says,  without  the  aid  of  men  never  could  have  achieved 
such  great  exploits.  Thus  in  a matter  that  is  undoubted 
he  brings  evidences  that  are  unnecessary.  But  as  the  assem- 
blage or  agreement  of  men  among  themselves  is  productive 
of  the  greatest  benefits,  so  is  there  no  plague  so  direful  that 
it  may  not  arise  to  man  from  man.  We  have  a treatise 
of  Dicaearchus,^  an  eminent  and  eloquent  Peripatetic,  con- 
cerning the  destruction  of  mankind;  and  after  collecting 
together  all  the  different  causes,  such  as  those  of  inundations, 
pestilence,  devastation,  and  those  sudden  attacks  of  swarms 
of  creatures,  by  which  he  tells  us  some  tribes  of  men  have  been 
destroyed  ; he  then  calculates  how  many  more  men  have  been 
destroyed  by  men,  that  is  by  wars  and  seditions,  than  by 
every  other  species  of  calamity. 

As  this  point  therefore  admits  of  no  doubt,  that  man  can 
do  the  greatest  good  and  the  greatest  injury  to  man,  I 
lay  it  down  as  the  peculiar  property  of  virtue,  that  it  recon- 
ciles the  affections  of  mankind,  and  employs  them  for  her 
own  purposes.  So  that  all  the  application  and  management 
of  inanimate  things,  and  of  brutes  for  the  use  of  mankind, 
is  effected  by  the  industrial  arts.  But  the  quick  and  ready 
zeal  of  mankind  for  advancing  and  enlarging  our  conditions, 
is  excited  through  the  wisdom  and  virtue  of  the  best  of 
mankind. 

For  virtue  in  general  consists  of  three  properties.  First, 
in  discerning  in  every  subject  what  is  true  and  genuine ; 
what  is  consistent  in  every  one ; what  will  be  the  con- 
sequence of  such  or  such  a thing  ; how  one  thing  arises  from 
another,  and  what  is  the  cause  of  each.  The  next 
property  of  virtue  is  to  calm  those  violent  disorders  of  the 
mind  which  the  Greek  call  n(xdrj,  and  to  render  obedient  to 
reason  those  appetites  which  they  call  oQtuui,  The  third 
property  is  to  treat  wdth  moderation  and  prudence  those  with 


' Dicaearchus,  born  in  Sicily,  and  a disciple  of  Aristotle. 


CHAP.  VI. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


83 


whom  we  are  joined  in  society,  that  by  their  means  we  may 
have  the  complete  and  full  enjoyment  of  all  that  nature 
stands  in  need  of;  .and  likewise  by  them  repel  every  thing 
adverse  that  may  befall  us,  and  avenge  ourselves  of  those  who 
have  endeavored  to  injure  us,  by  inflicting  on  them  as  much 
punishment  as  equity  and  humanity  permit 

VI.  I shall  soon  treat  of  the  means  to  acquire  this  art  of 
winning  and  retaining  the  affections  of  mankind,  but  first  a 
few  things  must  be  premised.  Who  is  insensible  what  great 
influence  fortune  has  in  both  w^ays,  either  upon  our  prosperity 
or  adversity  ? ^ When  we  sail  with  her  favoring  breeze,  we 
are  carried  to  the  most  desirable  landing-places : when  she 
opposes  us,  we  are  reduced  to  distress.  Some,  however,  of 

i “ All  can  not  be  happy  at  once  ; for  because  the  glory  of  one  state 
depends  upon  the  ruin  of  another,  there  is  a revolution  and  vicissitude 
of  their  greatness,  which  must  obey  the  spring  of  that  wheel  not  proved 
by  intelligences,  but  by  the  hand  of  God,  whereby  all  estates  rise  to 
their  zenith  and  vertical  points,  according  to  their  predestinated  periods. 
For  the  lives  not  only  of  men  but  of  commonweals,  and  the  whole  world, 
run  not  upon  an  helix  that  still  enlargeth,  but  on  a circle,  where  arising 
to  their  meridian,  they  dechne  in  obscurity,  and  fall  under  the  horizon 
again. 

“ These  must  not,  therefore,  be  named  the  effects  of  fortune,  but  in  a 
relative  way,  and  as  we  term  the  works  of  nature.  It  was  the  ignorance 
of  man’s  reason  that  begat  this  very  name,  and  by  a careless  term  mis- 
called the  providence  of  God;  for  there  is  no  liberty  for  causes  to 
operate  in  a loose  and  straggling  way,  nor  any  effect  whatsoever  but 
hath  its  warrant  from  some  universal  or  superior  cause.  ’Tis  not  a 
ridiculous  devotion  to  say  a prayer  before  a game  at  tables ; for  even  in 
sortileges  and  matters  of  greatest  uncertainty,  there  is  a settled  and  pre- 
ordered course  of  effects.  It  is  we  that  are  blind,  not  fortune ; because 
our  eye  is  too  dim  to  discover  the  mystery  of  her  effects,  we  foolishly 
paint  her  blind,  and  hoodwink  the  providence  of  the  Almighty.  I can 
not  justify  that  contemptible  proverb,  that  fools  only  are  fortunate ; or 
that  insolent  paradox,  that  a wise  man  is  out  of  the  reach  of  fortune ; 
much  less  those  opprobrious  epithets  of  poets,  whore,  bawd,  strumpet. 
’Tis,  I confess,  the  common  fate  of  men  of  singular  gifts  of  mind  to  be 
destitute  of  those  of  fortune ; which  doth  not  any  way  deject  the  spirit 
of  wiser  judgments,  who  thoroughly  understand  the  justice  of  this  pro- 
ceeding, and  being  enriched  with  higher  donatives,  cast  a more  careless 
eye  on  these  vulgar  parts  of  felicity.  It  is  a most  unjust  ambition  to  de- 
sire to  engross  the  mercies  of  the  Almighty,  nor  to  be  content  with  the 
goods  of  mind  without  a possession  of  those  of  body  or  fortune  ; and  is 
an  error  worse  than  heresy  to  adore  these  complemental  and  circum- 
stantial pieces  of  felicity,  and  undervalue  those  perfections  and  essential 
points  of  happiness  wherein  we  resemble  our  Maker.”— Sir  Thomas 
Browne’s  “ Religio  Medici,”  cap.  1^,  18. 


84 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  IL 


the  accidents  of  fortune  herself  are  more  unfrequent ; for 
instance,  in  the  first  place  storms,  tempests,  shipwrecks, 
ruins,  or  burnings,  which  spring  from  inanimate  things;  in 
the  next  place,  causes  blows,  bites,^  or  attacks  of  brutes. 
Those  accidents  I say  happen  more  seldom. 

But  of  the  destruction  of  armies,  we  have  just  now  seen 
three  different  instances,^  and  often  we  see  more ; the  de- 
struction of  generals,  as  was  lately  the  case  of  a great  and 
an  eminent  personage ; ^ together  with  unpopularity,  whence 
frequently  arises  the  expulsion,  the  fall,  or  the  flight  of  the 
worthiest  citizens ; and  on  the  other  hand,  prosperous  events, 
honors,  commands,  and  victories ; though  all  those  are 
influenced  by  chance,  yet  they  could  not  be  brought  about  on 
either  side  without  the  concurring  assistance  and  inclinations 
of  mankind.  This  being  premised,  I am  now  to  point  out 
the  manner  in  which  we  may  invite  and  direct  the  incli- 
nations of  mankind,  so  as  to  serve  our  interests ; and  should 
what  I say  on  this  head  appear  too  long,  let  it  be  compared 
with  the  importance  of  the  subject,  and  then,  perhaps,  it  may 
even  seem  too  short. 

Whatever,  therefore,  people  perform  for  any  man,  either  to 
raise  or  to  dignify  him,  is  done  either  through  kindness,  when 
they  have  a motive  of  affection  for  him  ; or  to  do  him  honor 
in  admiration  of  his  virtue,  and  when  they  think  him  worthy 
of  the  most  exalted  fortune  ; or  when  they  place  confidence 
in  him,  and  think  that  they  are  doing  the  best  for  their  own 
interests;  or  when  they  are  afraid  of  his  power;  or  when 
they  hope  somewhat  from  him ; as  when  princes,  or  those  who 
court  the  people,  propose  certain  largesses ; or,  lastly,  when  they 
are  engaged  by  money  and  bribery  ; a motive  that  of  all  other 
is  the  vilest  and  most  sordid,  both  with  regard  to  those  who 
are  influenced  by  it,  and  those  who  are  compelled  to  resort  to  it. 

For  it  is  a bad  state  of  things,  when  that  is  attempted  by 
money  which  ought  to  be  effected  by  virtue ; but  as  this  re- 
source is  sometimes  necessary,  I wdll  show  in  what  manner 
it  is  tb  be  employed,  after  I have  treated  of  some  things  that 
are  more  connected  with  virtue.  Now,  mankind  submit  to  the 
command  and  power  of  another  for  several  reasons.  For  they 

^ Meaning  the  defeat  of  Pompey  at  Pharsalia,  of  his  sons  at  Munda 
in  Spain,  and  of  Scipio  in  Africa ; all  by  Julius  Caesar. 

^ Pompey  the  Great. 


CHAP.  TII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


85 


are  induced  by  benevolence  or  by  tbe  greatness  of  bis  bene- 
fits ; or  by  his  transcendent  worth,  or  by  the  hopes  that  their 
submission  will  turn  to  their  own  account,  or  from  the  fear 
of  their  being  forced  to  submit,  or  from  the  hopes  of  reward, 
or  the  power  of  promises,  or,  lastly  (which  is  often  the  case 
in  our  government),  they  are  hired  by  a bribe. 

VII.  Now,  of  all  things  there  is  none  more  adapted  for 
supporting  and  retaining  our  influence  than  to  be  loved,  nor 
more  prejudicial  than  to  be  feared.  Ennius  says  very  truly, 
“ People  hate  the  man  they  fear,  and  to  each  the  destruction 
of  him  whom  he  hates  is  expedient.”  It  has  been  lately 
shown,^  if  it  was  not  well  known  before,  that  no  power  can 
resist  the  hatred  of  the  many.  Nor  indeed  is  the  destruction 
of  that  tyrant,  who  by  arms  forced  his  country  to  endure  him, 
and  whom  it  obeys  still  more  after  his  death,  the  only  proof 
how  mighty  to  destroy  is  the  hatred  of  mankind,  but  the 
similar  deaths  of  other  tyrants ; few  of  whom  have  escaped  a 
similar  fate.  For  fear  is  but  a bad  guardian  to  permanency, 
whereas  affection  is  faithful  even  to  perpetuity. 

But  the  truth  is,  cruelty  must  be  employed  by  those  who 
keep  others  in  subjection  by  force ; as  by  a master  to  his 
slaves,  if  they  can  not  otherwise  be  managed.  But  of  all  mad- 
men, they  are  the  maddest  who  in  a free  state  so  conduct  them- 
selves as  to  be  feared.  However,  under  th^  power  of  a private 
man  the  laws  may  be  depressed  and  the  spirit  of  liberty  in- 
timidated, yet  they  occasionally  emerge,  either  by  the  silent 
determinations  of  the  people,  or  by  their  secret  suffrages  with 
relation  to  posts  of  honor.  For  the  inflictions  of  liberty, 
when  it  has  been  suspended,  are  more  severe  than  if  it  had 
been  retained.  We  ought  therefore  to  follow  this  most  ob- 
vious principle,  that  dread  should  be  removed  and  affection 
reconciled,  which  has  the  greatest  influence  not  only  on  our 
security,  but  also  on  our  interest  and  power  ; and  thus  we  shall 
most  easily  attain  to  the  object  of  our  wishes,  both  in  private 
and  political  affairs.  For  it  is  a necessary  consequence,  that 
men  fear  those  very  persons  by  whom  they  wish  to  be  feared. 

For  what  judgment  can  we  form  of  the  elder  Dionysius  1 ^ 

1 Cicero  here  alludes  to  the  assassination  of  Caesar  in  the  senate. 

^ This  elder  Dionysius  was  tyrant  of  Syracuse  about  the  year  of  Rome 
44:7.  His  son  and  successor,  of  the  same  name,  was  expelled  by  Dione, 
the  disciple  of  Plato. 


86 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  IL 


With  what  pangs  of  dread  was  he  tortured,  when,  being 
fearful  even  of  his  barber’s  razor,  he  singed  his  beard  with 
burning  coals  ? In  what  a state  of  mind  may  it  not  be  sup- 
posed Alexander  the  Pherean  to  have  lived  ? Who  (as  we 
read),  though  he  loved  his  wife  Thebe  excessively,  yet  when- 
ever he  came  into  her  bed-chamber  from  the  banquet,  ordered 
a barbarian,  nay,  one  who  we  are  told  was  scarred  with  the 
Thracian  brands,  to  go  before  him  with  a drawn  sword ; and 
sent  certain  of  his  attendants  to  search  the  chests  of  the 
ladies,  and  discover  whether  they  had  daggers  concealed 
among  their  clothes.  Miserable  man ! to  think  a barbarous 
and  branded  slave  could  be  more  faithful  to  him  than  his 
wife  ! Yet  was  he  not  deceived,  for  he  was  murdered  by  her 
on  the  suspicion  of  an  illicit  connection  ; nor,  indeed,  can  any 
power  be  so  great  as  that,  under  the  pressure  of  fear,  it  can 
be  lasting. 

Phalaris  is  another  instance,  whose  cruelty  was  notorious 
above  all  other  tyrants ; who  did  not,  like  the  Alexander  I 
have  just  mentioned,  perish  by  secret  treachery,  nor  by  the 
hands  of  a few  conspirators,  like  our  own  late  tyrant,  but 
was  attacked  by  the  collective  body  of  the  Agrigentines. 
ISTay,  did  not  the  Macedonians  abandon  Demetrius,  and  with 
one  consent  betake  themselves  to  Pyrrhus  ? And  did  not  the 
allies  of  the  Lacedaemonians  abandon  them  almost  univers- 
ally when  they  governed  tyrannically,  and  show  themselves 
unconcerned  spectators  of  the  disaster  at  Leuctra  ? 

VIII.  Upon  such  a subject  I more  willingly  record  foreign 
than  domestic  examples ; as  long,  however,  as  the  empire  of 
the  Roman  people  was  supported  by  beneficence,  and  not  in- 
justice, their  wars  were  undertaken  either  to  defend  their 
allies  or  to  protect  their  empire,  the  issues  of  their  wars  were 
either  merciful  or  unavoidable ; and  the  senate  was  the 
harbor  and  the  refuge  of  kings,  people,  and  nations. 

Moreover,  our  magistrates  and  generals  sought  to  derive 
their  highest  glory  from  this  single  fact,  that  they  had  upon 
the  principles  of  equity  and  honor  defended  their  provinces 
and  their  allies.  This  therefore  might  more  justly  be  desig- 
nated the  patronage  than  the  empire  of  the  world ; for  some 
lime  we  have  been  gradually  declining  from  this  practice 
and  these  principles;  but  after  the  victory  of  Sylla,  wo 
entirely  lost  them : for  when  such  cruelties  were  exer- 


;JHAP.  Till. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


87 


cised  upon  our  fellow-citizens,  we  ceased  to  think  any  thing 
unjust  toward  our  allies.  In  this  case,  therefore,  a disgrace- 
ful conquest  crowned  a glorious  cause  for  he  had  the  pre- 
sumption to  declare,  when  the  goods  of  worthy  men,  of  men 
of  fortune',  and,  to  say  the  least,  of  citizens,  were  selling  at 
public  auction,  that  he  was  disposing  of  his  own  booty.  He 
was  followed  by  a man  who,  with  an  impious  cause  and  a 
still  more  detestable  victory,  did  not  indeed  sell  the  effects  of 
private  citizens,  but  involved  in  one  state  of  calamity  whole 
provinces  and  countries.  Thus  foreign  nations  being  ha- 
rassed and  ruined,  we  saw  Marseilles,*  the  type  of  our 
perished  constitution,  carried  in  triumph,  without  whose  aid 
our  generals  who  returned  from  Transalpine  wars  had  never 
triumphed.  Were  not  this  the  most  flagrant  indignity  the  sun 
ever  beheld,  I might  recount  a great  many  other  atrocities 
against  our  allies.  Deservedly,  therefore,  were  we  punished ; 
for  had  we  not  suffered  the  crimes  of  many  to  pass  unpunished 
never  could  so  much  licentiousness  have  been  concentrated 
in  one,  the  inheritance  of  whose  private  estate  descended  in- 
deed to  but  a few,  but  that  of  his  ambition  devolved  upon 
many  profligates. 

Nor,  indeed,  will  there  ever  be  wanting  a source  and  motive 
for  civil  war,  while  men  of  abandoned  principles  call  to  mind 
that  bloody  sale,  and  hope  for  it  again.  For  when  the  spear* 
under  which  it  was  made  was  set  up  for  his  kinsman  the  dic- 
tator, by  Publius  Sylla,  the  same  Sylla,  thirty-six  years  after, 
was  present  at  a still  more  detestable  sale  ; while  another  who 
in  that  dictatorship  was  only  a clerk,  in  the  latter  one  was 
city-quaestor.  From  all  which  we  ought  to  learn,  that  while 
such  rewards  are  presented,  there  never  can  be  an  end  of  our 
civil  wars.  Thus  the  walls  of  our  city  alone  are  standing,  and 
even  these  awaiting  the  crimes  that  must  destroy  them ; but 

1 Sylla’s  pretense  for  taking  up  arms  was  to  defend  the  nobility  against 
the  encroachments  of  the  commons,  headed  by  Marius,  whose  party 
Caesar  revived. — Guthrie. 

2 This  was  a favorite  state  with  the  Roman  republicans ; but  having 
too  inconsiderately  shut  their  gates  against  and  provoked  Caesar,  he 
treated  it  as  is  here  described. — Guthrie. 

3 Cicero  here  alludes  to  the  sales  of  the  estates  of  the  Roman  citizens 
made  by  Sylla ; and  which  always  were,  among  the  Romans,  carried  on 
under  a spear  stuck  into  the  ground.  The  like  sales  were  afterward 
made  by  some  of  Caesar’s  party. — Guthrie. 


88 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  i:. 


already  we  have  utterly  lost  our  constitution  ; and  to  return 
to  my  subject,  we  have  incurred  all  those  miseries,  because  we 
chose  rather  to  be  feared  than  to  endear  ouselves  and  be 
beloved.  If  this  was  the  case  with  the  people  of  Rome  when 
exercising  their  dominion  unjustly,  what  consequence  must 
private  persons  expect  ? IS’ow,  as  it  is  plain  that  the  force  of 
kindness  is  so  strong,  and  that  of  fear  so  weak,  it  remains  for 
me  to  discant  upon  the  means  by  which  we  may  most  readily 
attain  to  that  endearment  which  we  desire,  consistently  with 
fidelity  and  honor. 

But  of  this  we  do  not  all  stand  in  the  same  need ; for  it 
depends  on  the  different  purpose  of  life  which  each  individual 
pursues,  whether  it  be  necessary  for  him  to  be  beloved  by  the 
many,  or  whether  the  affections  of  the  few  be  sufficient.  One 
thing,  however,  may  be  considered  as  certain ; that  it  is  chiefly 
and  indispensably  necessary,  that  we  should  possess  the  faith- 
ful affections  of  those  friends  who  love  our  persons  and  admire 
our  qualities  ; for  this  is  the  only  particular  in  which  men  of 
the  highest  and  middle  stations  of  life  agree,  and  is  attainable 
by  both  in  much  the  same  manner.  All,  perhaps,  are  not 
equally  desirous  of  honors  and  of  the  good-will  of  their  fellow- 
citizens  ; but  the  man  who  is  possessed  of  them  is  greatly  as- 
sisted by  them  in  acquiring  other  advantages  as  well  as  those 
of  friendship. 

IX.  But  I have  in  another  book,  which  is  entitled  Lselius, 
treated  of  friendship.  I am  now  to  speak  of  fame,  though  I 
have  already  published  two  books  upon  that  subject  let  me, 
however,  touch  upon  it,  as  it  greatly  conduces  to  the  right 
management  of  the  more  important  aflfairs.  The  highest  and 
the  most  perfect  popularity  lies  in  three  requisites ; first, 
when  the  public  loves  us ; secondly,  when  it  regards  us  as 
trustworthy ; thirdly,  when,  with  a certain  degree  of  admi- 
ration, it  judges  us  to  be  worthy  of  preferment.  Now,  if  I 
am  to  speak  plainly  and  briefly,  almost  the  same  means  by 
which  those  advantages  are  acquired  from  private  persons 
procure  them  from  the  public.  But  there  is  another  passage 
by  which  we  may,  as  it  were,  glide  into  the  aflfections  of  the 
many. 

And  first,  let  me  touch  upon  those  three  maxims  by  which 
(as  I have  already  said)  good-will  may  be  acquired.  This  is 

* This  treatise  is  now  lost. 


CHAP.  X. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


89 


cliiefly  acquired  by  benefits ; but  next  to  that,  good-will  is 
won  by  a beneficent  disposition,  though  we  may  be  desti- 
tute of  means.  Thirdly,  the  affections  of  the  public  are 
wonderfully  excited  by  the  mere  reputation  of  generosity, 
beneficence,  justice,  honor,  and  of  all  those  virtues  that  re- 
gard politeness  and  affability  of  manners.  For  the  very 
honestum  and  the  graceful,  as  it  is  called,  because  it  charms 
us  by  its  own  properties  and  touches  the  hearts  of  all  by  its 
qualities  and  its  beauties,  is  chiefly  resplendent  through  the 
medium  of  those  virtues  I have  mentioned.  We  are  there- 
fore drawn,  as  it  were,  by  nature  herself  to  the  love  of  those 
in  whom  w^e  think  those  virtues  reside.  Now  these  are  the 
strongest  causes  of  affection,  though  some  there  may  be  which 
are  less  material. 

The  acquisition  of  public  confidence  or  trust  may  be  efiected 
by  two  considerations : by  being  supposed  to  be  possessed  of 
wisdom  and  of  justice  combined.  For  we  have  confidence  in 
those  who  we  think  understand  more  than  ourselves,  and  who 
we  believe  see  further  into  the  future,  and,  when  business  is 
actually  in  hand  and  matters  come  to  trial,  know  how  to  pursue 
the  wisest  measures  and  act  in  the  most  expedient  manner,  as 
the  exigency  may  require ; all  mankind  agreeing  that  this  is 
real  and  useful  wisdom.  Such  confidence,  also,  is  placed  in 
honest  and  honorable  men,  that  is,  in  good  men,  as  to  exclude 
all  suspicion  of  fraud  or  injury.  We  therefore  think  we  act 
safely  and  properly  in  intrusting  them  with  our  persons,  our 
fortunes,  and  our  families. 

But  of  the  two  virtues,  honesty  and  wisdom,  the  former  is 
the  most  powerful  in  winning  the  confidence  of  mankind. 
For  honesty  without  wisdom  has  influence  sufiicient  of  itself ; 
but  wisdom  without  honesty  is  of  no  effect  in  inspiring  confi- 
dence ; because,  when  we  have  no  opinion  of  a man’s  probity, 
the  greater  his  craft  and  cunning  the  more  hated  and  suspected 
he  becomes ; honesty,  therefore,  joined  to  understanding,  will 
have  unbounded  power  in  acquiring  confidence  ; honesty  with- 
out understanding  can  do  a great  deal ; but  undersanding  with- 
out honesty  can  do  nothing. 

X.  But  lest  any  one  should  wonder  why,  as  all  philosophers 
are  agreed  in  one  maxim,  which  I myself  have  often  main- 
tained, that  the  man  who  possesses  one  of  the  virtues  is  in 
possession  of  them  all,  I here  make  a distinction  which  im- 


90 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  II. 


plies  that  a man  may  be  just  but  not  at  the  same  time  piu- 
dent ; there  is  one  kind  of  accuracy  which  in  disputation 
refines  even  upon  truth,  and  another  kind,  when  our  whole 
discourse  is  accommodated  to  the  understanding  of  the  public. 
Therefore  I here  make  use  of  the  common  terms  of  discourse, 
by  calling  some  men  brave,  some  good,  others  prudent.  For 
when  we  treat  of  popular  opinions,  we  should  make  use  of 
popular  terms,  and  Pansetius  did  the  same.  But  to  return  to 
our  subject. 

Of  the  three  requisites  of  perfect  popularity,  the  third  I 
mentioned  was,  ‘‘  when  the  public  with  a certain  degree  of 
admiration  judges  us  to  be  worthy  of  preferment.”  Now 
every  thing  that  men  observe  to  be  great  and  above  their 
comprehension  they  commonly  admire ; and  with  regard  to 
individuals,  those  in  whom  they  can  see  any  unexpected 
excellences.  They  therefore  behold  with  reverence  and 
extol  with  the  greatest  praise,  those  men  in  whom  they 

think  they  can  perceive  some  distinguished  or  singular  vir- 

tues ; whereas  they  despise  those  whom  they  think  to  possess 
no  virtue,  spirit,  or  manliness.  Now,  men  do  not  despise  all 

those  of  whom  they  think  ill.  For  they  by  no  means  con- 

temn rogues,  slanderers,  cheats,  and  those  who  are  prepared 
to  commit  an  injury,  though  they  have  a bad  opinion  of 
them.  Therefore,  as  I have  already  said,  those  are  despised 
who  can  neither  serve  themselves  nor  any  one  else,  who  have 
no  assiduity,  no  industry,  and  no  concern  about  them  ; but 
those  men  are  the  objects  of  admiration  who  are  thought  to 
surpass  others  in  virtue,  and  to  be  free  as  well  from  every 
disgrace,  as  especially  from  those  vices  which  others  can  not 
easily  resist.  For  pleasures,  those  most  charming  mistressess, 
turn  aside  the  greater  number  of  minds  from  virtue,  and  most 
men,  when  the  fires  of  affliction  are  applied  to  them,  are  un- 
measurably  terrified.  Life  and  death,  poverty  and  riches, 
make  the  deepest  impressions  upon  all  men.  But  as  to  those 
who,  with  a great  and  elevated  mind,  look  down  on  these  in- 
differently ; — men  whom  a lofty  and  noble  object,  when  it  is 
presented  to  them,  draws  and  absorbs  to  itself ; — in  such 
cases,  who  does  not  admire  the  splendor  and  the  beauty  of 
virtue  ? 

XL  This  sublimity  of  soul,  therefore,  produces  the  highest 
admiration ; and  above  all,  justice,  from  which  single  virtue 


CHAP.  XL 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


91 


men  are  called  good,  appears  to  the  multitude  as  something 
marvelous.  And  with  good  reason  ; for  no  man  can  be  just 
if  he  is  afraid  of  death,  pain,  exile,  or  poverty,  or  prefers 
their  contraries  to  justice.  Men  especially  admire  him  who 
is  incorruptible  by  money,  and  they  consider  every  man  in 
whom  that  quality  is  seen  as  ore  purified  by  the  fire. 
Justice,  therefore,  comprehends  all  the  three  means  of  acquir- 
ing glory  which  have  been  laid  down.  The  love  of  the  pub- 
lic, on  account  of  its  being  a general  benefit ; its  confidence, 
for  the  same  reason ; and  its  admiration,  because  it  neglects 
and  despises  those  objects  to  which  most  men  are  hurried  on 
inflamed  with  avidity. 

In  my  opinion,  however,  every  scheme  and  purpose  of  life 
requires  the  assistance  of  men,  especially  that  one  should 
have  some  with  whom  he  can  familiary  unbosom  himself, 
which  is  hard  for  one  to  do,  unless  he  maintain  the  appear- 
ance of  a good  man.  For  this  reason,  were  a man  to  live 
ever  so  lonely  or  ever  so  retired  in  the  country,  a reputation 
for  justice  would  be  indispensable  to  him,  and  so  much  the 
more,  as  those  who  do  not  possess  it  will  be  esteemed  dis- 
honest, and  thus  surrounded  by  no  protection  will  be  exposed 
to  numerous  injuries. 

And  with  those  likewise  who  buy  or  sell,  who  hire  or  let 
out,  or  who  are  engaged  in  the  transaction  of  business,  justice 
is  necessary  to  the  carrying  of  their  pursuits,  for  its  influ- 
ence is  so  great,  that  without  some  grains  of  it,  even  they 
who  live  by  malpractices  and  villainy  could  not  subsist. 
For  among  those  who  thieve  in  company,  if  any  one  of 
them  cheat  or  rob  another  he  is  turned  out  of  the  gang ; and 
the  captain  of  the  band  himself,  unless  he  should  distribute 
the  spoils  impartially,  would  either  be  murdered  or  deserted 
by  his  fellows.  Indeed,  robbers  are  even  said  to  have  their 
laws,  which  they  obey  and  observe.  By  this  impartiality  in 
sharing  the  booty,  Bardyllis,  the  Illyrian  robber,  mentioned 
by  Theopompus,  obtained  great  wealth;  and  Viriathus,  the 
Lusitanian,  much  greater ; to  whom  our  armies  and  our  gene- 
rals yielded;  but  whom  the  praetor  Caius  Laelius,  surnamed 
the  wise,  crushed  and  subdued,  and  so  repressed  his  ferocity 
that  he  left  an  easy  victory  to  his  successors.  If,  therefore, 
the  influence  of  justice  is  so  forcible  as  to  strengthen  and 
enlarge  the  power  of  robbers,  how  great  must  we  suppose 


92 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  II. 


it  to  be  amid  the  laws  and  administration  of  a well-constituted 
government  ? 

XII.  It  appears  to  me,  that  not  only  among  the  Medes, 
as  we  are  told  by  Herodotus,  but  by  our  own  ancestors,  men 
of  the  best  principles  were  constituted  kings,  for  the  benefit 
of  their  just  government.  For  when  the  helpless  people 
were  oppressed  by  those  who  had  greater  power,  they  betook 
themselves  to  some  one  man  who  was  distinguished  by  his 
virtue,  who  not  only  protected  the  weakest  from  oppression, 
but  by  setting  up  an  equitable  system  of  government,  united 
highest  and  lowest  in  equal  rights.  The  cause  of  the  institu- 
tion of  laws  was  the  same  as  that  of  kings ; for  equality  of 
rights  has  ever  been  the  object  of  desire ; nor  otherwise  can 
there  be  any  rights  at  all. 

When  mankind  could  enjoy  it  under  one  just  and  good  man, 
they  were  satisfied  with  that ; but  when  that  was  not  the  case, 
laws  were  invented,  which  perpetually  spoke  to  all  men  with 
one  and  the  same  voice.  It  is  therefore  undeniable  that  the 
men  whose  reputation  among  the  people  was  the  highest  for 
their  justice,  were  commonly  chosen  to  bear  rule.  But  when 
the  same  were  likewise  regarded  as  wise  men,  there  was 
nothing  the  people  did  not  think  themselves  capable  of  attain- 
ing under  such  authority.  Justice,  therefore,  is  by  all  manner 
of  means  to  be  reverenced  and  practiced  ; both  for  its  own  sake 
(for  otherwise  it  would  not  be  justice),  and  for  the  enlargement 
of  our  own  dignity  and  popularity.  But  as  there  is  a system 
not  only  for  the  acquisition  of  money  but  also  for  its  invest- 
ment, so  that  it  may  supply  ever-recurring  expenses,  not  only 
the  needful  but  the  liberal ; so  popularity  must  be  both  acquired 
and  maintained  by  system. 

It  was  finely  said  by  Socrates  that  the  shortest  and  most 
direct  road  to  popularity,  is  “ for  a man  to  be  the  same  that 
he  wishes  to  be  taken  for.”  People  are  egregiously  mistaken 
if  they  think  they  ever  can  attain  to  permanent  popularity  by 
hypocrisy,  by  mere  outside  appearances,  and  by  disguising 
not  only  their  language  but  their  looks.  True  popularity 
takes  deep  root  and  spreads  itself  wide;  but  the  false  falls 
away  like  blossoms ; for  nothing  that  is  false  can  be  lasting. 
I could  bring  many  instances  of  both  kinds  ; but  for  the  sake 
of  liberty,  I will  confine  myself  to  one  fhmily.  While  there 
is  a memorial  of  Roman  history  remaining,  the  memory  of 


CHAP.  XIII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


93 


Tiberius  Graccbus,  the  son  of  Publius,  will  be  held  in  honor ; 
but  his  sons  even  in  life  were  not  approved  of  by  the  good,  and, 
being  dead,  they  are  ranked  among  those  who  were  deservedly 
put  to  death. 

XIII.  Let  the  man  therefore  who  aspires  after  true  popularity, 
perform  the  duties  of  justice.  What  these  are  has  been  laid 
down  in  the  former  book.  But  although  we  may  most  easily 
seem  to  be  just  what  we  are  (though  in  this  of  itself  there  is 
very  great  importance),  yet  some  precepts  require  to  be  given 
as  to  how  we  ma}’’  be  such  men  as  we  desire  to  be  considered. 
For  if  any  one  from  early  youth  has  the  elements  of  celebrity 
and  reputation,  either  derived  from  his  father  (which  I 
fancy,  my  dear  Cicero  has  happened  to  you),  or  by  some 
other  cause  or  accident ; the  eyes  of  all  mankind  are  turned 
toward  him,  and  they  make  it  their  business  to  inquire  what 
he  does  and  how  he  lives ; and,  as  if  he  were  set  up  in  the 
strongest  point  of  light,  no  word  or  deed  of  his  can  be 
private. 

Now  those  whose  early  life,  through  their  mean  and  ob- 
scure rank,  is  passed  unnoticed  by  the  public,  when  they 
come  to  be  young  men,  ought  to  contemplate  important  pur- 
poses, and  pursue  them  by  the  most  direct  means,  which  they 
will  do  with  a firmer  resolution,  because  not  only  is  no  envy 
felt,  but  favor  rather  is  shown  toward  that  period  of  life. 
The  chief  recommendation  then  of  a young  man  to  fame  is 
derived  from  military  exploits.^  Of  this  we  have  many  ex- 

^ “ Perhaps  it  wiU  afford  to  some  men  new  ideas,  if  we  inquire  what 
the  real  nature  of  the  military  virtues  is.  They  receive  more  of  applause 
than  virtues  of  any  other  kind.  How  does  this  happen  ? We  must  seek 
a solution  in  the  seeming  paradox  that  their  pretensions  to  the  charac- 
ters of  virtues  are  few  and  small.  They  receive  much  applause  because 
they  merit  little.  They  could  not  subsist  without  it ; and  if  men  resolve 
to  practice  war,  and  consequently  to  require  the  conduct  which  gives 
success  to  war,  they  must  decorate  that  conduct  with  glittering  fictions, 
and  extol  the  military  virtues,  though  they  be  neither  good  nor  great. 
Of  every  species  of  real  excellence  it  is  the  general  characteristic  that  it 
is  not  anxious  for  applause.  The  more  elevated  the  virtue  the  less  the 
desire,  and  the  less  is  the  public  voice  a motive  to  action.  What  should 
we  say  of  that  man’s  benevolence  who  would  not  relieve  a neighbor  in 
distress,  unless  the  donation  would  be  praised  in  a newspaper  ? What 
should  we  say  of  that  man’s  piety,  who  prayed  only  when  he  was  ‘ seen 
of  men  ?’  But  the  military  virtues  live  upon  applause ; it  is  their  vital 
element  and  their  food,  their  great  pervading  motive  and  reward.  Are 
there,  then,  among  the  respective  virtues  such  discordances  of  char- 


94 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


Boo^  n. 


amples  among  our  ancestors,  for  they  were  almost  always 
waging  wars.  Y our  youth  however  has  fallen  upon  the  time 
of  a war,  in  which  one  party  incurred  too  much  guilt  and  the 
other  too  little  success.  But  when  in  that  war  Pompey  gave 
you  the  command  of  a squadron,  you  gained  the  praise  of  that 
great  man  and  of  his  army  by  your  horsemanship,  your  darting 
the  javelin,  and  your  tolerance  of  all  military  labor.  But  this 
honor  of  yours  ceased  with  the  constitution  of  our  country. 
My  discourse  however  has  not  been  undertaken  with  reference 
to  you  singly,  but  to  the  general  subject.  Let  me  therefore 
proceed  to  what  remainSo 

As  in  other  matters  the  powers  of  the  mind  are  far  more  im- 
portant than  those. of  the  body,  so  the  objects  we  pursue  by 
intelligence  and  reason  are  more  important  than  those  we  effect 
by  bodily  strength.  The  most  early  recommendation,  therefore, 
is  modesty,  obedience  to  parents,  and  affection  for  relations. 
Young  men  are  likewise  most  easily  and  best  known,  who  at- 
tach themselves  to  wise  and  illustrious  men  who  benefit  their 
country  by  their  counsels.  Their  frequenting  such  company 
gives  mankind  a notion  of  their  one  day  resembling  those 
whom  they  choose  for  imitation. 

The  frequenting  of  the  house  of  Publius  Marcus  commended 
the  early  life  of  Publius  Rutilius  to  a reputation  for  integrity 
and  knowledge  of  the  law.  Lucius  Crassus  indeed,  when  very 
young,  was  indebted  to  no  extrinsic  source,  hut  by  himself  ac- 
quired the  highest  honor  from  that  noble  and  celebrated 
prosecution  he  undertook;  at  an  age  when  even  those  who 
exercise  themselves  are  highly  applauded  (as  we  are  told  in  the 
case  of  Demosthenes),  Crassus,  I say,  at  that  age  showed  that 
he  could  already  do  that  most  successfully  in  the  forum,  which 
at  that  lime  he  would  have  gained  praise  had  he  attempted  at 
home. 

XIY.  But  as  there  are  two  methods  of  speaking ; the  one 
proper  for  conversation,  the  other  for  debate,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  but  the  disputative  style  of  speech  is  of  the  greatest 
efficacy  with  regard  to  fame ; for  that  is  what  we  properly 
term  eloquence.  Yet  it  is  difficult  to  describe  how  great 

acter,  such  total  contrariety  of  nature  and  essence?  No,  no.  But 
how  then  do  you  account  for  the  fact,  that  while  all  other  great  virtues 
aro  independent  of  public  praise  and  stand  aloof  from  it,  the  mihtary 
virtues  can  scarcely  exist  without  it  ?” — Dymond’s  “ Essay  on  Morals.” 


CHAP.  XIV. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


95 


power,  affability  and  politeness  in  conversation  have  to  win  the 
affections  of  mankind.  There  are  extant  letters  from  Philip, 
from  Antipater,  and  from  Antigonus,  three  of  the  wisest  men 
we  meet  with  in  history,  to  their  sons  Alexander,  Cassander, 
and  Philip,  recommending  to  them  to  draw  the  minds  of  the 
people  to  kindly  sentiments  by  a generous  style  of  discourse, 
and  to  engage  their  soldiers  by  a winning  address.  But  the 
speech  which  is  pronounced  in  debate  before  a multitude  often 
carries  away  a whole  assembly.  For  great  is  their  admiration 
of  an  eloquent  and  sensible  speaker,  that  when  they  hear  him, 
they  are  convinced  he  has  both  greater  abilities  and  more  wis- 
dom than  the  rest  of  mankind.  But  should  this  eloquence  have 
in  it  dignity  combined  with  modesty,  nothing  can  be  more 
admirable,  especially  should  those  properties  meet  in  a young 
man. 

Various  are  the  causes  that  require  the  practice  of  elo- 
quence ; and  many  young  men  in  our  state  have  attained 
distinction  before  the  judges  and  in  the  senate  ; but  there  is 
the  greatest  admiration  for  judicial  harangues,  the  nature  of 
which  is  twofold,  for  it  consists  of  accusation  and  defense. 
Of  those,  though  the  latter  is  preferable  in  point  of  honor ; yet 
the  other  has  often  been  approved.  I have  spoken  a little 
before  of  Crassus;  Marcus  Antoniiis  when  a youth  did  the 
same.  An  accusation  also  displayed  the  eloquence  of  Publius 
Sulpicius,  when  he  brought  to  trial  Caius  Norbanus,  a seditious 
and  worthless  citizen. 

But  in  truth,  we  ought  not  to  do  this  frequently  nor  ever, 
except  for  the  sake  of  our  country,  as  in  the  cases  I have 
mentioned ; or  for  the  purpose  of  revenge,^  as  the  two  Lu- 

* The  direct  approbation  and  inculcation  of  revenge  on  the  part  of 
ancient  moralists,  constitutes  the  point  at  which  the  authorities  on 
Christian  ethics  most  widely  diverge  from  them.  Paley  lays  down  the 
following  principles  on  this  subject:  “It  is  highly  probable,  from  the 
light  of  nature,  that  a passion,  which  seeks  its  gratification  immediately 
and  expressly  in  giving  pain,  is  disagreeable  to  the  benevolent  will  and 
counsels  of  the  Creator.  Other  passions  and  pleasures  may,  and  often 
do,  produce  pain  to  some  one ; but  then  pain  is  not,  as  it  is  here,  the 
object  of  the  passion,  and  the  direct  cause  of  the  pleasure.  This  proba- 
bility is  converted  into  certainty,  if  we  give  credit  to  the  authority  which 
dictated  the  several  passages  of  the  Christian  scriptures  that  condemn 
revenge,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  which  enjoins  forgiveness,  The 
forgiveness  of  an  enemy  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  proceedings  against 
him  as  a public  offender ; and  that  the  discipline  established  in  religious 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  II. 


culli  did ; or  by  way  of  patronage,  as  I did  on  bebalf  of  the 
Sicilians,  or  as  Julius  did  in  the  case  of  Albucius  on  bebalf 
of  the  Sardians.  The  diligence  of  Lucius  Fufius  was  dis- 
played in  the  impeachment  of  Manius  Aquillius.  For  once 
therefore  it  may  be  done  ; or  at  all  events  not  often.  But  if  a 
man  should  be  under  a necessity  of  doing  it  oftener,  let  him 
perform  it  as  a duty  to  his  country,  for  it  is  by  no  means 
blameworthy  to  carry  on  repeated  prosecutions  against  her 

or  civil  societies,  for  the  restraint  or  punishment  of  criminals,  ought  to 
be  upholden.  If  the  magistrate  be  not  tied  down  with  these  prohibitions 
from  the  execution  of  his  ofiBce,  neither  is  the  prosecutor ; for  the  office 
of  the  prosecutor  is  as  necessary  as  that  of  the  magistrate.  Nor,  by 
parity  of  reason,  are  private  persons  withholden  from  the  correction  of 
vice,  when  it  is  in  their  power  to  exercise  it,  provided  they  be  assured 
that  it  is  the  guilt  which  provokes  them,  and  not  the  injury;  and  that 
their  motives  are  pure  from  all  mixture  and  every  particle  of  that  spirit 
which  delights  and  triumphs  in  the  humiliation  of  an  adversary.” — 
Paley’s  Moral  and  Pohtical  Philosophy,  book  iii.  ch.  viii. 

Sir  Thomas  Browne,  in  his  “ Christian  Morals,”  has  the  following 
striking  reflections  on  revenge : “ Too  many  there  be  to  whom  a dead 
enemy  smells  well,  and  who  find  musk  and  amber  in  revenge.  Tho 
ferity  of  such  minds  holds  no  rule  in  retahations,  requiring  too  often  a 
head  for  a tooth,  and  the  supreme  revenge  for  trespasses  which  a night’s 
rest  should  obliterate.  But  patient  meekness  takes  injuries  like  pills, 
not  chewing  but  swallowing  them  down,  laconically  suffering,  and 
silently  passing  them  over ; while  angered  pride  makes  a noise,  like 
Homerican  Mars,  at  every  scratch  of  offenses.  Since  women  do  most 
delight  in  revenge,  it  may  seem  but  feminine  manhood  to  be  vindictive. 
If  thou  must  needs  have  thy  revenge  of  thine  enemy,  with  a soft  tongue 
break  his  bones,  heap  coals  of  fire  on  his  head,  forgive  him  and  enjoy 
it.  To  forgive  our  enemies  is  a charming  way  of  revenge,  and  a short 
Caesarian  conquest,  overcoming  without  a blow;  laying  our  enemies 
at  our  feet,  under  sorrow,  shame,  and  repentance ; leaving  our  foes  our 
friends,  and  solicitously  inchned  to  grateful  retaliations.  Thus  to  return 
upon  our  adversaries  is  a healing  way  of  revenge ; and  to  do  good  for  evil 
a soft  and  melting  ultion,  a method  taught  from  heaven  to  keep  all 
smooth  on  earth.  Common  forcible  ways  make  not  an  end  of  evil,  but 
leave  hatred  and  malice  behind  them.  An  enemy  thus  reconciled  is  little 
to  be  trusted,  as  wanting  the  foundation  of  love  and  charity,  and  but  for 
£#time  restrained  by  disadvantage  or  inability.  If  thou  hast  not  mercy 
for  others,  yet  be  not  cruel  unto  thyself.  To  ruminate  upon  evils,  to 
make  critical  notes  upon  injuries,  and  be  too  acute  in  their  apprehen- 
sions, is  to  add  unto  our  own  tortures,  to  feather  the  arro’ws  of  our 
enemies,  to  lash  ourselves  with  the  scorpions  of  our  foes,  and  to  resolvo 
to  sleep  no  more.  For  injuries  long  dreamt  on  take  away  at  last  all  rest, 
and  he  sleeps  but  like  Regulus  who  busieth  his  head  about  them.” — 
Christian  Morals,  chapter  xii. 


CHAP.  XIY. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES 


97 


enemies.  But  still  let  moderation  be  observed.  For  it  seems 
to  be  the  part  of  a cruel  man,  or  rather  scarcely  of  a man  at  aU, 
to  endanger  the  lives  of  many.  It  is  both  dangerous  to  your 
person,  and  disgraceful  to  your  character,  so  to  act  as  to  get  the 
name  of  an  accuser,  as  happened  in  the  case  of  Marcus  Brutus, 
a man  sprung  from  a most  noble  family,  and  son  to  the  eminent 
adept  in  civil  law. 

Moreover,  this  precept  of  duty  also  must  be  carefully  ob- 
served, that  you  never  arraign  an  innocent  man  on  trial  for 
his  life,  for  this  can  by  no  means  be  done  without  heinous 
guilt.  For  what  can  be  so  unnatural  as  to  prostitute  to  the 
prosecution  and  the  ruin  of  the  good,  that  eloquence  which 
nature  has  given  us  for  the  safety  and  preservation  of  man- 
kind. Although,  however,  this  is  to  be  avoided,  yet  we  are 
not  to  consider  it  a religious  duty  never  to  defend  a guilty 
party,  so  that  he  be  not  abominable  and  impious.  The  people 
desire  this,  custom  tolerates  it,  and  humanity  suffers  it.  The 
duty  of  a judge  in  all  trials  is  to  follow  truth ; that  of 
a pleader,  sometimes  to  maintain  the  plausible  though  it  may 
not  be  the  truth, ^ which  I should  not,  especially  as  I am  now 

1 Two  of  the  most  eminent  moralists  of  modern  times  have  thus  re- 
corded their  respective  judgments  on  this  point  of  casuistry.  Archdeacon 
Pa  ley  says,  “ There  are  falsehoods  which  are  not  lies ; that  is,  which  are 
not  criminal:  as,  where  no  one  is  deceived;  which  is  the  case  in  para- 
bles, fables,  novels,  jests,  tales  to  create  mirth,  ludicrous  embellishments 
of  a story,  where  the  declared  design  of  the  speaker  is  not  to  inform,  but 
to  divert ; compliments  in  the  subscription  of  a letter,  a servant’s  deny- 
ing his  master,  a prisoner’s  pleading  not  guilty,  an  advocate  asserting 
the  justice,  or  his  belief  of  the  justice,  of  his  client’s  cause.  In  such  in- 
stances, no  confidence  is  destroyed,  because  none  was  reposed;  no 
promise  to  speak  the  truth  is  violated,  because  none  was  given,  or  un- 
derstood to  be  given.” — Paley’s  Moral  and  Political  Philosophy,  book  iii. 
chapter  xv. 

In  refutation  of  this  view,  Dymond  suggests  the  following  considera- 
tions : — “ This  defense  is  not  very  credible,  even  if  it  were  valid ; it  de- 
fends men  from  the  imputation  of  falsehood,  because  their  falsehoods  arc 
so  habitual  that  no  one  gives  them  credit ! 

“ But  the  defense  is  not  valid.  Of  this  the  reader  may  satisfy  himself 
by  considering  why,  if  no  one  ever  believes  what  advocates  say,  they 
continue  to  speak.  They  would  not,  year  after  year,  persist  in  uttering 
untruths  in  our  courts,  without  attaining  an  object,  and  knowing  that 
they  would  not  attain  it  If  no  one  ever  in  fact  believed  them,  they 
would  cease  to  asseverate.  They  do  not  love  falsehood  for  its  own  sake, 
and  utter  it  gratuitously  and  for  nothing.  The  custom  itself,  therefore, 
disproves  the  argument  that  is  brought  to  defend  it.  Whenever  that 

5 


98 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  II. 


treating  of  pliilosophy,  venture  to  write,  were  it  not  likewise  the 
opinion  of  a man  of  the  greatest  weight  among  the  Stoics, 
Pansetius.  But  it  is  hj  defenses  that  glory  and  favor  also  are 
acquired  in  the  greatest  degree  ; and  so  much  the  greater,  if  at 
any  time  it  happens  that  we  come  to  the  help  of  one  who  seems 
to  be  circumvented  and  oppressed  by  the  influence  of  some 
powerful  man,  as  I myself  have  done  both  in  other  cases  fre- 
quently, and  when  a youth  in  defense  of  Sextus  Roscius  Amer- 
inus,  against  the  influence  of  Lucius  Sylla,  then  in  power,  which 
speech,  as  you  know,  is  extant. 

XV.  But  having  explained  the  duties  of  young  men, 
which  avail  to  the  attainment  of  glory,  we  have  next  to 
speak  about  beneficence  and  liberality,  the  nature  of  which  is 
twofold ; for  a kindness  is  done  to  those  who  need  it,  by 
giving  either  our  labor  or  our  money.  The  latter  is  easier, 

defense  becomes  valid,  whenever  it  is  really  true  that  ‘ no  confidence  is 
reposed’  in  advocates,  they  will  cease  to  use  falsehood,  for  it  will  have 
lost  its  motive.  But  the  real  practice  is  to  mingle  falsehood  and  truth 
together,  and  so  to  involve  the  one  with  the  other  that  the  jury  can  not 
easily  separate  them.  The  jury  know  that  some  of  the  pleader’s  state- 
ments are  true,  and  these  they  believe.  Flow  he  makes  other  statements 
with  the  same  deliberate  emphasis ; and  how  shall  the  jury  know  whether 
these  are  false  or  true  ? How  shall  they  discover  the  point  at  which 
they  shall  begin  to  ‘ repose  no  confidence  V Knowing  that  a part  is  true, 
they  can  not  always  know  that  another  part  is  not  true.  That  it  is  the 
pleader’s  design  to  persuade  them  of  the  truth  of  all  he  affirms,  is  mani- 
fest. Suppose  an  advocate,  when  he  rose  should  say,  ‘ Gentlemen,  I am 
now  going  to  speak  the  truth ;’  and  after  narrating  the  facts  of  the  case, 
should  say,  ‘ Gentlemen,  I am  now  going  to  address  you  with  fictions.’ 
Why  should  not  an  advocate  do  this  ? Because  then  no  confidence  would 
be  reposed,  which  is  the  same  thing  as  to  say  that  he  pursues  his  present 
plan  because  some  confidence  is  reposed,  and  this  decides  the  question. 
The  decision  should  not  be  concealed — that  the  advocate  who  employs 
untruths  in  his  pleadings,  does  really  and  most  strictly  lie. 

“And  even  if  no  one  ever  did  believe  an  advocate,  his  false  declara- 
tions would  still  be  lies,  because  he  always  ‘ professes  to  speak  the  truth.’ 
This  indeed  is  true  upon  the  Archdeacon’s  own  showing ; for  he  says, 
‘ Whoever  seriously  addresses  his  discourse  to  another,  tacitly  promises 
to  speak  the  truth.’  The  case  is  very  different  from  others  which  he 
proposes  as  parallel — ‘ parables,  fables,  jests.’  In  these,  the  speaker  does 
not  profess  to  state  facts.  But  the  pleader  does  profess  to  state  facts. 
He  intends  and  endeavors  to  mislead.  His  untruths,  therefore,  are  lies 
to  him,  whether  they  are  believed  or  not ; just  as,  in  vulgar  life,  a man 
whose  falsehoods  are  so  notorious  that  no  one  gives  him  credit,  is  not 
the  less  a liar  than  if  he  were  believed.” — Dymond’s  Essay  on  the  Prin- 
ciples of  Morals,  Essay  ii.  chapter  v. 


CHAP.  XV. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


99 


especially  to  a wealthy  person;  but  the  former  is  the  more 
noble  and  splendid,  and  more  worthy  of  a brave  and  illus- 
trious man ; for  although  there  exists  in  both  a liberal  incli- 
nation to  oblige,  yet  the  one  is  a draft  on  our  purse,  the  other 
on  our  virtue,  and  bounty  which  is  given  out  of  our  income 
exhausts  the  very  source  of  the  munificence.  Thus  benignity 
is  done  away  by  benignity,  and  the  greater  the  number  you 
have  exercised  it  upon,  so  much  the  less  able  are  you  to 
exercise  it  upon  many.  But  they  who  will  be  beneficent 
and  liberal  of  their  labor,  that  is,  of  their  virtue  and  in- 
dustry, in  the  first  place,  will  have  by  how  much  greater 
the  number  of  persons  they  shall  have  served,  so  much 
the  more  coadjutors  in  their  beneficence.  And  in  the 
next  place,  by  the  habit  of  beneficence  they  will  be  the 
better  prepared,  and,  as  it  were,  better  exercised  to  de- 
serve well  of  many.  Philip,  in  a certain  letter,  admirably 
reproves  his  son  Alexander,  because  he  sought  to  gain  the 
goodwill  of  the  Macedonians  by  largesses — “ Pest !”  he 
says,  “what  consideration  led  you  into  the  hope  that  you 
could  imagine  that  they  whom  you  have  corrupted  with 
money  would  be  faithful  to  you  ? Are  you  aiming  at  this, 
that  the  Macedonians  should  expect  you  will  be,  not  their 
king,  but  their  agent  and  purveyor.”  He  says  well,  “ agent 
and  purveyor,”  because  that  is  undignified  in  a king ; and 
still  better,  because  he  designates  a largess  a corrupt  bribe ; 
for  he  who  receives  becomes  the  worse  for  it,  and  more  ready 
always  to  expect  the  same.  He  enjoined  this  on  his  son,  but 
we  may  consider  it  a precept  for  all  men.  Wherefore,  this 
indeed  is  not  doubtful,  that  such  beneficence  as  consists  of 
labor  and  industry  is  both  the  more  honorable,  and  ex- 
tends more  widely,  and  can  serve  a greater  number.  Some- 
times, however,  we  must  make  presents — nor  is  this  sort  of 
beneficence  to  be  altogether  repudiated;  and  oftentimes  we 
ought  to  communicate  from  our  fortune  to  suitable  persons, 
who  are  in  need,  but  carefully  and  moderately.  For  many 
persons  have  squandered  their  patrimonies  by  unadvised  gene- 
rosity. How,  what  is  more  absurd  than  to  bring  it  to  pass 
that  you  can  no  longer  do  that  which  you  would  willingly  do  ? 
And  moreover,  rapine  follows  profuseness.  For  when,  by 
giving,  they  begin  to  be  in  want,  they  are  forced  to  lay  their 
hands  upon  other  men’s  property.  Thus,  when,  for  the  sake 


100 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  IL 


of  procuring  good-will,  they  mean  to  be  beneficent,  they  ac- 
quire not  so  much  the  afiection  of  those  to  whom  they  give 
as  the  hatred  of  those  from  whom  they  take.  Wherefore,  our 
purse  should  neither  be  so  closed  up  that  our  generosity 
can  not  open  it,  nor  so  unfastened  that  it  lies  open  to  all — a 
bound  should  be  set,  and  it  should  bear  reference  to  our 
means.  W e ought  altogether  to  remember  that  saying  which, 
from  being  very  often  used  by  our  countrymen,  has  come  into 
the  usage  of  a proverb,  that  “ bounty  has  no  bottom.”  For 
what  bounds  can  there  be,  when  both  they  who  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  receive,  and  other  persons,  are  desiring  the  same  thing? 

XVI.  There  are  two  kinds  of  men  who  give  largely,  of 
whom  one  kind  is  prodigal,  the  other  liberal.  The  prodigal 
are  those  who  with  entertainments,  and  distributions  of  meat 
to  the  populace,  and  gladiatorial  exhibitions,  and  the  appa- 
ratus of  the  stage  and  the  chase,  lavish  their  money  upon 
those  things  of  which  they  will  leave  behind  either  a tran- 
sient memory,  or  none  all.  But  the  liberal  are  they  who, 
with  their  fortunes,  either  redeem  those  captured  by  robbers, 
or  take  up  the  debts  of  their  friends,  or  aid  in  the  estabhsh- 
ing  of  their  daughters,  or  assist  them  either  in  seeking  or 
increasing  their  fortunes.  Therefore,  I am  astonished  what 
could  come  into  the  mind  of  Theophrastus,  in  that  book 
which  he  wrote  about  riches,  in  which  he  has  said  many 
things  well,  but  this  most  absurdly.  For  he  is  lavish  in 
praise  of  magnificence,  and  of  the  furnishing  of  popular 
exhibitions,  and  he  considers  the  means  of  supplying  such 
expenses  to  be  the  grand  advantage  of  wealth.  Xow,  to 
me  that  enjoyment  of  hberality  of  which  I have  given  a few 
examples,  seems  much  greater  and  surer.  With  how  much 
more  weight  and  truth  does  Aristotle  censure  such  of  us  as  feel 
no  astonishment  at  that  profusion  of  wealth  which  is  wasted 
in  courting  the  people  ; “ if,”  says  he,  “ they  who  are  besieged 
by  an  enemy  should  be  compelled  to  purchase  a pint  of  water 
at  a mina,^  this,  on  first  hearing,  would  seem  to  us  incredible, 
and  all  would  be  astonished,  but  when  we  reflect  upon  it,  we 
excuse  it  for  its  necessity ; while  in  these  pieces  of  immense 
extravagance  and  unbounded  expense,  we  do  not  feel  greatly 
astonished.”  And  he  censures  us,  especially,  “ because  we  are 
neither  relieving  necessity,  nor  is  our  dignity  increased,  and 

1 About  three  pounds  sterling. 


CHAP.  XVIL 


CICERO’S  OFEICES. 


101 


tlie  very  delight  of  the  multitude  is  for  a brief  and  little 
space,  and  only  felt  by  the  most  giddy,  even  in  whom,  how- 
ever, at  the  same  time  with  the  satiety,  the  memory  of  the 
pleasure  likewise  dies.”  He  sums  up  well,  too,  that  “ these 
things  are  agreeable  to  boys  and  silly  women,  and  slaves, 
and  freemen  very  like  slaves ; but  that  by  a man  of  sense, 
and  one  who  ponders  with  sound  judgment  on  such  exhibi- 
tions, they  can  in  no  way  be  approved.”  Though  I know 
that  in  our  state  it  is  established  by  ancient  usage,  and  even 
now  in  the  good  times,  that  the  splendor  of  sedileships^  is 
expected  even  from  the  most  excellent  men.  Therefore,  both 
Publius  Crassus,  wealthy  as  well  in  name  as  in  fortune,  dis- 
charged the  office  of  sedile  with  the  most  magnificent  enter- 
tainment ; and,  a little  while  after,  Lucius  Crassus,  with 
Quintus  Mucius,  the  most  moderate  of  all  men,  served  a most 
magnificent  sedileship ; and  next,  Caius  Claudius,  son  of 
Appius ; many  subsequently — the  Luculli,  Hortensius,  Silanus  ; 
but  Publius  Lentulus,  in  my  consulship,  surpassed  all  his 
predecessors.  Scaurus  imitated  him ; but  the  shows  of  my 
friend  Pompey,  in  his  second  consulship,  were  the  most  mag- 
nificent of  all — concerning  all  of  whom,  you  see  what  is  my 
opinion. 

XVIL  Nevertheless,  the  suspicion  of  avarice  should  be 
avoided.  The  omitting  of  the  sedileship  caused  the  rejection 
of  Mamercus,  a very  wealthy  man,  from  the  consulship. 
Wherefore  it  must  be  done  if  it  be  required  by  the  people, 
and  good  men,  if  not  desiring,  at  least  approve  it,  but  in 
proportion  to  our  means,  as  I myself  did  it ; and  again,  if 
some  object  of  greater  magnitude  and  utility  is  acquired  by 
popular  largess,  as  lately  the  dinners  in  the  streets,  under 
pretext  of  a vow  of  a tenth,^  brought  great  honor  to 
Orestes.  Nor  was  ever  any  fault  found  with  Marcus  Seius, 
because  in  the  scarcity  he  gave  corn  to  the  people  at  an  as 
the  bushel.  For  he  delivered  himself  from  a great  and  in- 
veterate dislike  by  an  expense  neither  disgraceful,  since  he 
was  sedile  at  the  time,  nor  excessive.  But  it  lately  brought 
the  greatest  honor  to  our  friend  Milo,  that  with  gladiators, 

^ The  .^diles,  among  other  duties,  had  the  care  of  the  public  shows, 
to  which  they  were  expected  to  contribute  larse^y  of  their  private 
fortunes. 

* To  one  of  the  gods. 


102 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  n. 


hired  for  the  sake  of  the  republic,  which  was  held  together  by 
my  safety,  he  repressed  all  the  attempts  and  madness  of  Publius 
Clodius.  The  justification,  therefore,  of  profuse  bounty  is  that 
it  is  either  necessary  or  useful.  Moreover,  in  these  very  cases 
the  rule  of  mediocrity  is  the  best.  Lucius  Philippus,  indeed, 
the  son  of  Quintus,  a man  in  the  highest  degree  illustrious  for 
his  great  genius,  used  to  boast  that  without  any  expense  he 
had  attained  all  the  highest  honors  that  could  be  obtained. 
Cotta  said  the  same,  and  Curio.  I myself,  too,  might  in  some 
degree  boast  on  this  subject ; for  considering  the  amplitude  of 
the  honors  which  I attained  with  all  the  votes  in  my  own^ 
year,  too — a thing  that  happened  to  none  of  those  whom  I 
have  just  named — the  expense  of  my  sedileship  was  certainly 
trifling. 

These  expenses  also  are  more  justifiable  on  walls,  docks, 
ports,  aqueducts,  and  all  things  which  pertain  to  the  service 
of  the  state,  though  what  is  given  as  it  were  into  our  hands 
is  more  agreeable  at  present,  yet  these  things  are  more 
acceptable  to  posterity.  Theaters,  porticos,  new  temples,  I 
censure  with  more  reserve  for  Pompey’s  sake,  but  the  most 
learned  men  disapprove  of  them,  as  also  this  very  Panaetius, 
whom  in  these  books  I have  closely  followed,  though  not  trans- 
lated; and  Demetrius  Phalereus,  who  censures  Pericles,  the 
greatest  man  of  Greece,  because  he  lavished  so  much  money 
on  that  glorious  vestibule  but  all  this  subject  I have  carefully 
discussed  in  these  books  which  I have  written  upon  Govern- 
ment. The  whole  plan,  then,  of  such  largesses  is  ^dcious  in  its 
nature,  but  necessitated  by  particular  occasions,  and  even  then 
ought  to  be  accommodated  to  our  means,  and  regulated  by 
moderation. 

XVni.  But  in  that  second  kind  of  munificence  which 
proceeds  from  liberality,  w’^e  ought  in  difierent  cases  to  be 
afiected  in  difierent  manners.  The  case  is  difierent  of  him 
who  is  oppressed  with  misfortune,  and  of  him  who  seeks  to 
better  his  fortune  without  being  in  any  adversity.  Our 

^ To  be  Quaestor,  -<Edile,  Praetor,  and  Consul,  the  respective  ages  were 
31,  38,  41,  and  44  years.  The  man  who  was  elected  to  an  office  at  the 
earliest  age  at  which  he  was  entitled  to  offer  himself  a candidate  for  it 
was  said  to  get  it  in  his  own  year.  Cicero  got  each  of  them  in  his  own 
year. 

* Of  the  Acropolis. 


CHAP.  XYIII. 


CICERO’S  OEEICES. 


103 


benignity  will  require  to  be  more  prompt  toward  tbe  distressed, 
unless  perhaps  they  merit  their  distress  ; yet  from  those  who 
desire  to  be  assisted,  not  that  they  may  be  relieved  from  afflic- 
tion, but  that  they  may  ascend  to  a higher  degree,  we  ought 
by  no  means  to  be  altogether  restricted,  but  to  apply  judgment 
and  discretion  in  selecting  proper  persons.  For  Ennius  observes 
well — 

Benefactions  ill  bestowed,  I deem  malefactions.” 

But  in  that  which  is  bestowed  upon  a worthy  and  grateful 
man  there  is  profit,  as  well  from  himself  as  also  from  others ; 
for  liberality,  when  free  from  rashness,  is  most  agreeable, 
and  many  applaud  it  the  more  earnestly  on  this  account, 
because  the  bounty  of  every  very  exalted  man  is  the  common 
refuge  of  all.  We  should  do  our  endeavor,  then,  that  we 
may  serve  as  many  as  possible  with  those  benefits,  the  recol- 
lection of  which  may  be  handed  down  to  their  children  and 
posterity,  that  it  may  not  be  in  their  power  to  be  ungrateful ; 
for  all  men  detest  one  forgetful  of  a benefit,  and  they  consider 
that  an  injury  is  done  even  to  themselves  by  discouraging 
liberality,  and  that  he  who  does  so  is  the  common  enemy  of 
the  poor.  And  besides,  that  benignity  is  useful  to  the  state 
by  which  captives  are  redeemed  from  slavery,  and  the  poor 
are  enriched.  That  it  was  indeed  the  common  custom  that 
this  should  be  done  by  our  order,^  we  see  copiously  described 
in  the  speech  of  Crassus.  This  kind  of  bounty,  therefore, 
I prefer  far  before  the  munificent  exhibition  of  shows.  That 
is  the  part  of  dignified  and  great  men — this  of  fiatterers  of 
the  populace,  tickling,  as  it  were,  with  pleasures  the  levity 
of  the  multitude.  It  will,  moreover,  be  expedient  that  a 
man,  as  he  should  be  munificent  in  giving,  so  that  he  should 
not  be  harsh  in  exacting ; and  in  every  contract,  in  selling, 
buying,  hiring,  letting,  to  be  just  and  good-natured  to  the 
vicinage  and  surrounding  occupiers  ; conceding  to  many  much 
that  is  his  own  right,  but  shunning  disputes  as  far  as  he 
can  conveniently,  and  I know  not  but  even  a little  more  than 
he  can  conveniently.  For,  to  abate  at  times  a little  from  our 
rights,  is  not  only  generous,  but  sometimes  profitable  also. 
But  of  our  property,  which  it  is  truly  disgraceful  to  allow  to 


* The  senatorial. 


104 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  II. 


get  dilapidated,  care  must  be  taken,  but  in  such  a way  that 
the  suspicion  of  shabbiness  and  avarice  be  avoided.  For  to 
be  able  to  practice  liberality,  not  stripping  ourselves  of  our 
patrimony,  is  indeed  the  greatest  enjoyment  of  w^ealth. 
Hospitality  also  has  been  justly  recommended  by  Theo- 
phrastus. For,  as  it  appears  to  me,  indeed,  it  is  very 
decorous  that  the  houses  of  illustrious  men  should  be  open 
for  illustrious  guests.  And  that  also  brings  credit  to  the 
state,  that  foreigners  in  our  city  should  not  fail  of  ex- 
periencing this  species  of  liberality.  It  is,  moreover,  exceed- 
ingly useful  to  those  who  wish  to  be  very  powerful  in  an 
honorable  way,  to  get  the  command  over  w^ealth  and  interest 
among  foreign  nations  through  their  guests.  Theophrastus, 
indeed,  writes  that  Cymon  at  Athens  practiced  hospitality 
even  toward  his  brethren  of  the  Lacian  tribe ; for  that  he 
so  directed  and  commanded  his  stewards,  that  all  things 
should  be  supplied  to  any  of  them  that  should  turn  aside  into 
his  villa. 

XIX.  Now,  those  benefits  which  are  bestowed  out  of  our 
labor,  not  our  money,  are  conferred  as  well  upon  the  entire 
commonwealth,  as  upon  indiviJual  citizens.  For  to  give 
legal  opinions,  to  assist  with  counsel,  and  to  serve  as  many 
as  we  can  with  this  kind  of  knowledge,  tends  very  much  to 
increase  both  our  means  and  our  interest.  This,  therefore, 
as  well  as  many  things  about  our  ancestors,  was  noble,  that 
the  knowledge  and  interpretation  of  our  most  excellently 
constituted  civil  law  was  always  in  the  highest  repute ; 
which,  indeed,  before  this  confusion  of  the  present  times,  the 
nobles  retained  in  their  own  possession.  Xow,  like  honors 
— like  all  the  degrees  of  rank,  so  the  splendor  of  this 
science  is  extinguished ; and  this  is  the  more  unmeet  on  this 
account,  because  it  has  happened  at  the  very  time  when  he^ 
was  in  existence  who  far  surpassed  in  this  science  all  who 
went  before,  to  whom  also  he  was  equal  in  dignity.  This 
labor,  then,  is  acceptable  to  many,  and  suited  to  bind  men 
to  us  by  benefits.  But  the  talent  of  speaking  being  very 
closely  connected  with  this  art,  is  more  dignified,  more  agree- 
able, and  capable  of  higher  ornament.  For  what  is  more 
excellent  than  eloquence,  in  the  admiration  of  the  hearers,  or 


Servius  Sulpicius  Rufus 


CHAP.  XX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


105 


in  the  expectation  of  those  in  need  of  its  assistance,  or  in  the 
gratitude  of  those  who  have  been  defended  ? To  this,  then,  the 
first  rank  of  civil  dignity  was  given  by  our  ancestors.  Of  an 
eloquent  man,  then,  and  one  willingly  laboring,  and,  what  is  ac- 
cording to  the  customs  of  our  forefathers,  defending  the  causes 
of  many,  both  ungrudgingly  and  gratuitously,  the  benefits  and 
patronage  are  very  extensive. 

The  subject  would  admonish  me  that  at  this  opportunity  I 
should  likewise  deplore  the  discontinuance,  not  to  call  it  the 
extinction,  of  eloquence,  did  I not  apprehend  lest  I should 
appear  to  be  making  some  complaint  upon  my  own  account. 
However,  we  see  what  orators  are  extinct,  in  how  few  there 
is  promise,  in  how  much  fewer  ability,  in  how  many  pre- 
sumption. But  though  all,  or  even  many,  can  not  be  skill- 
ful in  the  law,  or  eloquent,  yet  it  is  in  a man’s  power,  by  his 
exertions,  to  be  of  service  to  many,  by  asking  benefits  for 
them,  commending  them  to  judges  and  magistrates,  watch- 
ing the  interests  of  others,  entreating  in  their  behalf  those 
very  advocates  who  either  are  consulted  or  defend  causes. 
They  who  act  thus,  gain  a great  deal  of  influence,  and  their 
industry  diffuses  itself  most  extensively.  Furthermore,  they 
need  not  be  admonished  of  this  (for  it  is  obvious),  that  they 
take  care  to  offend  none  while  they  are  wishing  to  serve 
others.  For  oftentime  they  offend  either  those  whom  it  is  their 
duty  or  whom  it  is  their  interest  not  to  offend.  If  unwittingly 
they  do  it,  it  is  a fault  of  negligence  ; if  knowingly,  of  rashness. 
It  is  necessary,  too,  that  you  make  an  apology,  in  whatever 
way  you  can,  to  those  whom  you  unwillingly  offend — how 
that  which  you  did  was  of  necessity,  and  that  you  could  not  do 
otherwise  ; and  it  will  be  necessary  to  make  compensation  to 
them  for  what  injury  you  have  inflicted  by  other  efforts  and 
good  offices. 

XX.  But  since,  in  rendering  services  to  men,  it  is  usuai 
to  look  either  to  their  character  or  their  fortune,  it  is  easy, 
indeed,  to  say,  and  so  people  commonly  say,  that  in  bestow- 
ing benefits  they  only  attend  to  a man’s  character,  not  to  his 
fortune.  It  is  a fine  speech ; but  pray  is  there  any  one  who 
in  rendering  a service  would  not  prefer  the  thanks  of  a rich 
and  powerful  man  before  the  cause  of  a poor,  though  most 
worthy  man  ? For  in  general  our  good-wfill  is  more  inclined 
toward  him  from  whom  it  appears  that  remuneration  would 

5^ 


106 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  II. 


be  easier  and  quicker.  But  we  ought  to  consider  more  at- 
tentively what  the  nature  of  things  is : for  of  course  that 
poor  man,  if  he  be  a good  man,  though  he  can  not  requite  a 
kindness,  can  at  least  have  a sense  of  it.  Now  it  was  well 
said,  whoever  said  it,  “ that  he  who  hath  the  loan  of  money, 
hath  not  repaid;  and  he  who  hath  repaid,  hath  not  the 
loan.  But  both  he  who  hath  requited  kindness  hath  a 
sense  of  it,  and  he  who  hath  a sense  of  it^  hath  requited.” 
But  they  who  consider  themselves  wealthy,  honored,  pros- 
perous, do  not  wish  even  to  be  bound  by  a benefit.  More- 
over, they  consider  that  they  have  conferred  a favor  when 
they  themselves  have  received  one,  however  great ; and  they 
also  suspect  that  something  is  either  sought  or  expected  from 
them  : but  they  think  it  like  death  to  them  that  they  should 
need  patronage,  and  be  called  clients.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  poor  man,  because  in  whatever  is  done  for  him 
he  thinks  it  is  himself  and  not  his  fortune  that  is  regarded, 
is  anxious  that  he  may  be  seen  to  be  grateful,  not  only  by 
him  who  has  merited  it  from  him,  but  also  by  those  from 
whom  he  expects  the  like  (for  he  needs  it  from  many).  Nor 
indeed  does  he  magnify  with  words  any  favor  of  his  own 
doing,  if  by  chance  he  confers  one,  but  rather  undervalues  it. 
And  this  is  to  be  considered,  that  if  you  defend  a man  of  power 
and  fortune,  the  gratitude  is  confined  to  himself  alone,  or  per- 
haps to  his  children ; but  if  you  defend  a poor  but  worthy 
and  modest  man,  all  poor  men  who  are  not  worthless 
(which  is  a vast  multitude  among  the  people)  see  a pro- 
tection offered  to  themselves  : wherefore,  I think  it  better 
that  a favor  should  be  bestowed  upon  worthy  persons  than 
upon  persons  of  fortune.  We  should  by  all  means  endeavor  to 
satisfy  every  description  of  people.  But  if  the  matter  shall 
come  to  competition,  undoubtedly  Themistocles  is  to  be  re- 
ceived as  an  authority,  who,  when  he  was  consulted  whether  a 
man  should  marry  his  daughter  to  a worthy  poor  man,  or  to  a 
rich  man  of  less  approved  character,  said,  “ I certainly  would 
rather  she  married  a man  without  money,  than  money  without 
a man.” 

^ “ A grateful  mind, 

By  owing,  owes  not,  but  still  pays — at  once 
Indebted  and  discharg’d.” — Milton, 


CHAP.  XXI. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


107 


But  our  morals  are  corrupted  and  depraved  by  the  admira- 
tion of  other  men’s  wealth.  Though  what  concern  is  its 
amount  to  any  of  us  ? Perhaps  it  is  of  use  to  him  who  owns 
it ; not  always  even  that : but  admit  that  it  is  of  use  to  himself, 
to  be  sure  he  is  able  to  spend  more,  but  how  is  he  an  honester 
man  ? But  if  he  shall  be  a good  man  besides,  let  his  riches 
not  prevent  him  from  getting  our  assistance — only  let  them  not 
help  him  to  get  it,  and  let  the  entire  consideration  be  not  how 
wealthy,  but  how  worthy  each  individual  is.  But  the  last  pre- 
cept about  benefits  and  bestowing  our  labor  is,  do  nothing 
hostile  to  equity — nothing  in  defense  of  injustice.  For  the  found- 
ation of  lasting  commendation  and  fame  is  justice — without 
which  nothing  can  be  laudable. 

XXL  But  since  I have  finished  speaking  about  that  kind 
of  benefits  which  have  regard  to  a single  citizen,  we  have 
next  to  discourse  about  those  which  relate  to  all  the  citizens 
together,  and  which  relate  to  the  public  good.  But  of  those 
very  ones,  some  are  of  that  kind  which  relate  to  all  the 
citizens  collectively ; some  are  such  that  they  reach  to  all 
individually,  which  are  likewise  the  more  agreeable.  The 
eftbrt  is  by  all  means  to  be  made,  if  possible,  to  consult  for 
both,  and  notwithstanding,  to  consult  also  for  them  individ- 
ually; but  in  such  a manner  that  this  may  either  serve,  or 
at  least  should  not  oppose,  the  public  interest.  The  grant  of 
corn  proposed  by  Caius  Gracchus  was  large,  and  therefore 
would  have  exhausted  the  treasury ; that  of  Marcus  Octavius 
was  moderate,  both  able  to  be  borne  by  the  state,  and  neces- 
sary for  the  commons ; therefore  it  was  salutary  both  for  tlie 
citizens  and  for  the  nation.  But  it  is  in  the  first  place  to  be 
considered  by  him  who  shall  have  the  administration  of  the 
government,  that  each  may  retain  his  own,  and  that  no  dimi- 
nution of  the  property  of  individuals  be  made  by  public 
authority.  For  Philip  acted  destructively,  in  his  tribuneship, 
when  he  proposed  the  agrarian  law,  which,  however,  he  readily 
suffered  to  be  thrown  out,  and  in  that  respect  showed  him- 
self to  be  exceeding  moderate ; but  when  in  courting  popu- 
larity he  drove  at  many  things,  he  uttered  this  besides  im- 
properly, “ that  there  were  not  in  the  state  two  thousand 
persons  who  possessed  property.”  A dangerous  speech,  and 
aiming  at  a leveling  of  property — than  which  mischief,  what 
can  be  greater  ? For  commonwealths  and  states  were  estab- 


108 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  n. 


lislied  principally  for  this  cause,  that  men  should  hold  what 
was  their  own.  For  although  mankind  were  congregated 
together  by  the  guidance  of  nature,  yet  it  was  with  the  hope 
of  preserving  their  own  property  that  they  sought  the  pro- 
tection of  cities. 

Care  should  also  be  taken,  lest,  as  often  was  the  case  among 
our  ancestors,  on  account  of  the  poverty  of  the  treasury  and 
the  continuity  of  wars,  it  may  be  necessary  to  impose  taxation, 
and  it  will  be  needful  to  provide  long  before  that  this  should 
not  happen.  But  if  any  necessity  for  such  a burden  should  be- 
fall any  state  (for  I would  rather  speak  thus  than  speak  omi- 
nously of  our  own  nor  am  I discoursing  about  our  own  state 
only,  but  about  all  states  in  general),  care  should  be  taken  that 
all  may  understand  that  they  must  submit  to  the  necessity  if 
they  wish  to  be  safe. 

And  also  all  who  govern  a nation  are  bound  to  provide 
that  there  be  abundance  of  those  things  which  are  neces- 
saries— of  which,  what  Idnd  of  a provision  it  is  usual  and 
proper  to  make,  it  is  not  necessary  to  canvass.  For  all  that 
is  obvious ; and  the  topic  only  requires  to  be  touched  on. 
But  the  principal  matter  in  every  administration  of  public 
business  and  employments  is,  that  even  the  least  suspicion  of 
avarice  be  repelled.  “ Would  to  heaven,”  said  Gains  Pontius, 
the  Samnite,  “ that  fortune  had  reserved  me  for  those  times, 
and  I had  been  born  then,  whenever  the  Romans  may  have 
begun  to  accept  bribes — I would  not  have  suffered  them  to 
reign  much  longer.”  He  surely  would  have  had  to  wait  many 
generations.  For  it  is  of  late  that  this  evil  has  invaded  this 
state ; therefore  I am  well  pleased  that  Pontius  was  in  ex- 
istence rather  at  that  time,  since  so  much  power  resided  in 
him.  It  is  not  yet  a hundred  and  ten  years  since  a law 
about  bribery  was  passed  by  Lucius  Piso,  when  previously 
there  had  been  no  such  law.  But  afterward  there  were  so 
many  laws,  and  each  successive  one  more  severe,  so  many 
persons  arraigned,  so  many  condemned,  such  an  Italian  war 
excited  through  fear  of  condemnations,  such  a rifling  and 
robbing  of  our  allies,  those  laws  and  judgments  were  sus- 

^ Plutarch  relates  that  -®mihus  Paullus,  on  the  conquest  of  Persius, 
king  of  Macedonia,  brought  home  such  an  immense  treasure,  that  the 
Roman  people  were  entirely  relieved  from  taxes  until  the  consulship  of 
liirtius  and  Pansa,  which  was  the  year  after  Cicero  wrote  this  work. 


CHAP.  XXIL 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


109 


pended,  that  we  are  strong  through  the  weakness  of  others,  not 
through  our  own  valor. 

XXII.  Pansetius  applauds  Africanus  because  he  was  self- 
denying.  Why  not  applaud  him  ? But  in  him  there  were 
other  and  greater  characteristics ; the  praise  of  self-restraint 
was  not  the  praise  of  the  man  only,  but  also  of  those  times. 
Paullus  having  possessed  himself  of  the  whole  treasure  of 
the  Macedonians,  which  was  most  immense,  brought  so  much 
wealth  into  the  treasury,  that  the  spoils  of  one  commander 
put  an  end  to  taxes  ; but  to  his  own  house  he  brought  nothing 
except  the  eternal  memory  of  his  name.  Africanus,  imitating 
his  father,  was  nothing  the  richer  for  having  overthrown 
Carthage.  What ! Lucius  Memmius,  who  was  his  colleague  in 
the  censorship,  was  he  the  wealthier  for  having  utterly  de- 
stroyed the  wealthiest  of  cities?  He  preferred  ornamenting 
Italy  rather  than  his  own  house — although  by  the  adorn- 
ment of  Italy,  his  own  house  itself  seems  to  me  more 
adorned.  Xo  vice,  then,  is  more  foul  (that  my  discourse 
may  return  to  the  point  from  whence  it  digressed)  than 
avarice,  especially  in  great  men  and  such  as  administer  the  re- 
public. For  to  make  a gain  of  the  republic  is  not  only  base, 
but  wicked  also,  and  abominable.  Therefore,  that  which  the 
Pythian  Apollo  delivered  by  his  oracle,  “ that  Sparta  would 
perish  by  nothing  but  its  avarice,”  he  seems  to  have  predicted 
not  about  the  Lacedaemonians  alone,  but  about  all  opulent  na- 
tions. Moreover,  they  who  preside  over  the  state  can  by  no 
way  more  readily  conciliate  the  good-will  of  the  multitude  than 
by  abstinence  and  self-restraint. 

But  they  who  wish  to  be  popular,  and  upon  that  account 
either  attempt  the  agrarian  affair,  that  the  owners  may  be 
driven  out  of  their  possessions,  or  think  that  borrowed 
money  should  be  released  to  the  debtors,  sap  the  foundations 
of  the  constitution ; namely,  that  concord,  in  the  first  place, 
which  can  not  exist  when  money  is  exacted  from  some,  and 
forgiven  to  others;  and  equity,  in  the  next  place,  which  is 
entirely  subverted,  if  each  be  not  permitted  to  possess  his 
own.  For,  as  I said  before,  this  is  the  peculiar  concern  of  a 
state  and  city,  that  every  person’s  custody  of  his  own 
property  be  free  and  undisturbed.  And  in  this  destructive 
course  to  the  state  they  do  not  obtain  even  that  popu- 
larity which  they  expect ; for  he  whose  property  is  taken  is 


110 


CICERO’S  OFFICES, 


BOOK  II, 


hostile ; he  also  to  whom  it  is  given  disguises  his  willingness 
to  accept  it,  and  especially  in  lent  moneys  he  conceals  his  joy 
that  he  may  not  appear  to  have  been  insolvent ; but  he,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  receives  the  injury,  both  remembers  and 
proclaims  his  indignation  ; nor  if  there  are  more  in  number 
to  whom  it  is  dishonestly  given  than  those  from  whom  it  has 
been  unjustly  taken,  are  they  even  for  that  cause  more  success- 
ful. For  these  matters  are  not  determined  by  number,  but  by 
weight.  Now,  what  justice  is  it  that  lands  w^hich  have  been 
pre-occupied  for  many  years,  or  even  ages,  he  who  was  pos- 
sessed of  none  should  get,  but  he  who  was  in  possession 
should  lose  ? 

XXIII.  And  on  account  of  this  kind  of  injustice,  the 
Lacedaemonians  expelled  their  Ephorus  Lysander,  and  put 
to  death  their  king  Agis — a thing  which  never  before  had 
happened  among  them.  And  from  that  time  such  great 
dissensions  ensued,  that  tyrants  arose,  and  the  nobles  were 
exiled,  and  a constitution  admirably  established  fell  to  pieces. 
Nor  did  it  fall  alone,  but  also  overthrew  the  rest  of  Greece 
by  the  contagion  of  evil  principles,  which  having  sprung 
from  the  Lacedaemonians,  flowed  far  and  wide.  What ! 
was  it  not  the  agrarian  contentions  that  destroyed  our  own 
Gracchi,  sons  of  that  most  illustrious  man  Tiberius  Grac- 
chus, and  grandsons  of  Africanus?  But,  on  the  contrary, 
Aratus,  the  Sicyonian,  is  justly  commended,  who,  when  his 
native  city  had  been  held  for  fifty  years  by  tyrants,  having 
set  out  from  Argos  to  Sicyon,  by  a secret  entrance  got 

possession  of  the  city,  and  when  on  a sudden  he  had  over- 

thrown the  tyrant  Nicocles,  he  restored  six  hundred  exiles, 
Avho  had  been  the  wealthiest  men  of  that  state,  and  restored 
freedom  to  the  state  by  his  coming.  But  when  he  perceived 
a great  difficulty  about  the  goods  and  possessions,  because  he 
considered  it  most  unjust  both  that  they  whom  he  had 
restored,  of  whose  property  others  had  been  in  possession, 
should  be  in  want,  and  he  did  not  think  it  very  fair  that 

possessions  of  fifty  years  should  be  disturbed,  because  that 

after  so  long  an  interval  many  of  those  properties  were  got 
possession  of  without  injustice,  by  inheritance,  many  by 
purchase,  many  by  marriage  portions ; he  judged  neither 
that  the  properties  ought  to  be  taken  from  the  latter,  nor 
that  these  to  whom  they  had  belonged  should  be  without  satis- 


CHAP.  XXIV. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


Ill 


faction.  When,  then,  he  had  concluded  that  there  was  need 
of  money  to  arrange  that  matter,  he  said  that  he  would  go  to 
Alexandria,  and  ordered  the  matter  to  be  undisturbed  until 
his  return.  He  quickly  came  to  his  friend  Ptolemy,  who  was 
then  reigning,  the  second  after  the  building  of  Alexandria, 
and  when  he  had  explained  to  him  that  he  was  desirous  to 
liberate  his  country,  and  informed  him  of  the  case,  this  most 
eminent  man  readily  received  consent  from  the  opulent  king 
that  he  should  be  assisted  with  a large  sum  of  money.  When 
he  had  brought  this  to  Sicyon,  he  took  to  himself  for  his 
council  fifteen  noblemen,  with  whom  he  took  cognizance  of 
the  cases,  both  of  those  who  held  other  persons’  possessions, 
and  of  those  who  had  lost  their  own  ; and  by  valuing  the 
possessions,  he  so  managed  as  to  persuade  some  to  prefer 
receiving  the  money,  and  yielding  up  the  possessions ; others 
to  think  it  more  convenient  that  there  should  be  paid  down 
to  them  what  was  the  price,  rather  than  they  should  resume 
possession  of  their  own.  Thus  it  was  brought  about  that  all 
departed  without  a complaint,  and  concord  was  established. 
Admirable  man,  and  worthy  to  have  been  born  in  our  nation ! 
Thus  it  is  right  to  act  with  citizens,  not  (as  we  have  now 
seen  twice)’  to  fix  up  a spear  in  the  forum,  and  subject  the 
goods  of  the  citizens  to  the  voice  of  the  auctioneer.  But 
that  Greek  thought,  as  became  a wise  and  superior  man,  that 
it  was  necessary  to  consult  for  all.  And  this  is  the  highest 
reason  and  wisdom  of  a good  citizen,  not  to  make  divisions 
in  the  interests  of  the  citizens,  but  to  govern  all  by  the  same 
equity.  Should  any  dwell  free  of  expense  in  another  man’s 
house?  Why  so?  Is  it  that  when  I shall  have  bought, 
built,  repaired,  expended,  you,  without  my  will,  should 
enjoy  what  is  mine  ? What  else  is  this  but  to  take  from 
some  what  is  theirs ; to  give  to  some  what  is  another  man’s  ? 
But  what  is  the  meaning  of  an  abolition  of  debts,  unless  that 
you  should  buy  an  estate  with  my  money — that  you  should 
have  the  estate,  and  I should  not  have  my  money  ? 

XXIV.  Wherefore,  it  ought  to  be  provided  that  there 
be  not  such  an  amount  of  debt  as  may  injure  the  state — a 
thing  which  may  be  guarded  against  in  many  ways ; not 
that  if  there  shall  be  such  debt  the  rich  should  lose  their 


Under  SyUa,  and  under  Caasar. 


112 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  II. 


rights,  and  the  debtors  gain  what  is  another’s — for  nothing 
holds  the  state  more  firmly  together  than  public  credit, 
which  can  not  at  all  exist  unless  the  payment  of  money  lent 
shall  be  compulsory.  It  never  was  more  violently  agitated 
than  in  my  consulship,  that  debts  should  not  be  paid ; the 
matter  was  tried  in  arms  and  camps,  by  every  rank  and 
description  of  men,  whom  I resisted  in  such  a manner,  that 
this  mischief  of  such  magnitude  was  removed  from  the  state. 
Never  was  debt  either  greater,  or  better  and  more  easily 
paid.  For  the  hope  of  defrauding  being  frustrated,  the 
necessity  of  paying  followed.  But  on  the  other  hand,  this 
man,  now  our  victor,^  but  who  was  vanquished  then,  has 
accomplished  the  things  which  he  had  in  view,  when  it  was 
now  a matter  of  no  importance  to  himself.  So  great  was 
the  desire  in  him  of  doing  wrong,  that  the  mere  wrong- 
doing delighted  him,  although  there  was  not  a motive  for  it. 
From  this  kind  of  liberality,  then,  to  give  to  some,  to  take 
from  others,  they  will  keep  aloof  who  would  preserve  the 
commonwealth,  and  will  take  particular  care  that  each  may 
hold  his  own  in  equity  of  right  and  judgments ; and  neither 
that  advantage  be  taken  of  the  poorer  class,  on  account  of 
their  humbleness,  nor  that  envy  be  prejudicial  to  the  rich, 
either  in  keeping  or  recovering  their  own.  They  will  besides 
increase  the  power  of  the  state  in  whatever  way  they  can, 
either  abroad  or  at  home,  in  authority,  territories,  tributes. 
These  are  the  duties  of  great  men.  These  were  practiced 
among  our  ancestors ; they  who  persevere  in  those  kinds  of 
duties,  will,  along  with  the  highest  advantage  to  the  republic, 
themselves  obtain  both  great  popularity  and  glory. 

Now,  in  these  precepts  about  things  profitable,  Antipater 
the  Tyrian,  a Stoic,  who  lately  died  at  Athens,  considers  that 
two  things  are  passed  over  by  Panaetius — the  care  of  health 
and  of  property — which  matters  I fancy  were  passed  over  by 
that  very  eminent  philosopher  because  they  were  obvious ; 
they  certainly  are  useful.  Now,  health  is  supported  by  under- 
standing one’s  own  constitution,  and  by  observing  what  things 
are  accustomed  to  do  one  good  or  injury  f and  by  temperance 

1 Caesar,  who  was  suspected  of  a share  in  Catiline’s  conspiracy,  after- 
ward, in  the  first  year  of  his  dictatorship,  when  he  was  himself  no  longer 
in  debt,  passed  a law,  abolishing  the  fourth  part  of  all  debts, 

2 Lord  Bacon  might  be  supposed  to  have  had  this  passage  before  him 


CHAP.  XKY. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


113 


in  all  food  and  manner  of  living,  for  tlie  sake  of  preserving 
the  body ; and  by  forbearance  in  pleasures ; and  lastly,  by 
the  skill  of  those  to  whose  profession  these  things  belong. 
Wealth  ought  to  be  acquired  by  those  means  in  which  there 
is  no  disgrace,  but  preserved  by  diligence  and  frugality,  and 
increased,  too,  by  the  same  means.  These  matters  Xenophon, 
the  Socratic  philosopher,  has  discussed  very  completely  in 
that  book  which  is  entitled  (Economics,  which  I,  when  I was 
about  that  age  at  which  you  are  now,  translated  from  the 
Greek  into  Latin. 

XXV.  But  a comparison  of  profitable  things,  since 
this  was  the  fourth  head,  but  passed  over  by  Pansetius,  is 
often  necessary.  For  it  is  usual  to  compare  the  good  estate 
of  the  body  with  external  advantages,  and  external  with 
those  of  the  body,  and  those  of  the  body  among  themselves, 
and  external  with  external.  The  good  estate  of  the  body  is 
compared  with  external  advantages  in  this  manner,  that  you 
had  rather  be  healthy  than  wealthy.  External  with  those 
of  the  body  in  this  manner,  to  be  wealthy  rather  than  of  the 
greatest  physical  strength.  Those  of  the  body  among  them- 
selves, thus,  that  good  health  should  be  preferred  to  pleasure, 
and  strength  to  speed.  But  the  comparison  of  external 
objects  is  thus,  that  glory  should  be  preferred  to  Tvealth,  a 
city  income  to  a country  one.  Of  which  kind  of  comparison 
is  that  reply  of  Cato  the  elder,  of  whom,  when  inquiry  was 
made,  what  was  the  best  policy  in  the  management  of  one’s 
property,  he  answered,  “ Good  grazing.”  ‘‘  What  was  next  ?” 
“ Tolerable  grazing.”  What  third  ?”  “ Bad  grazing.” 

“ What  fourth  ?”  “ Tilling.”  And  when  he  who  had 

interrogated  him  inquired,  “What  do  you  think  of  lending 
at  usury?”  Then  Cato  answered,  “What  do  you  think  of 
killing  a man?”^  From  which,  and  many  other  things,  it 

when  he  wrote  the  first  paragraph  of  his  thirtieth  Essay  on  “ Regimen  of 
Health.”  “ There  is  a wisdom  in  this  beyond  the  rules  of  physic ; a 
man’s  own  observation,  what  he  finds  good  of,  and  what  he  finds  hurt  of, 
is  the  best  physic  to  preserve  health ; but  it  is  a safer  conclusion  to  say 
‘ This  agreeth  not  well  with  me,  therefore  I will  not  continue  it,’  than  this, 

‘ I find  no  offense  of  this,  therefore  I may  use  it,’  for  strength  of  nature  in 
youth  passes  over  many  excesses  which  are  owing  a man  till  his  age. 
Discern  of  the  coming  on  of  years,  and  think  not  to  do  the  same  things 
still ; for  age  will  not  be  defied.” — ^Bacon’s  Essays,  Thirtieth  Essay. 

' “ Many  have  made  witty  invectives  against  usury.  They  say  that 


114 


CICERO’S  OEEICES. 


BOOK  II. 


ought  to  be  understood  that  it  is  usual  to  make  comparisons 
of  profitable  things;  and  that  this  was  rightly  added  as  a 
fourth  head  of  investigating  our  duties.  But  about  this 
entire  head,  about  gaining  money,  about  letting  it  out,  also 
about  spending  it,  the  matter  is  discussed  to  more  advantage 
by  certain  most  estimable  persons^  sitting  at  the  middle 
Janus,  than  by  any  philosophers  in  any  school.  Yet  these 
things  ought  to  be  understood ; for  they  relate  to  utility, 
about  which  we  have  discoursed  in  this  book.  We  will  next 
pass  to  what  remains. 

it  is  a pit j the  devil  should  have  God’s  part,  which  is  the  tithe ; that  the 
usurer  is  the  greatest  Sabbath  breaker,  because  his  plow  goeth  every 
Sunday ; that  the  usurer  is  the  drone  that  Yirgil  speaketh  of : 

‘Ignavum  fucos  pecus  a prsesepibus  arcent:’ 

that  the  usurer  breaketh  the  first  law  that  was  made  for  mankind  after 
the  fall  which  was,  ‘ in  sudore  vultus  tui  comedes  panem  tuum’  not  ‘ in 
sudore  vultus  alieni that  usurers  should  have  orange-tawny  bonnets, 
because  they  do  judaise ; that  it  is  against  nature  for  money  to  beget 
money,  and  the  hke.  I say  this  only,  that  usury  is  a ‘ concessum  propter 
duritiem  cordis:’  for  since  there  must  be  borrowing  and  lending,  and  men 
are  so  hard  of  heart  as  they  will  not  lend  freely,  usury  must  be  permitted. 
Some  others  have  made  suspicious  and  cunning  propositions  of  banks, 
discovery  of  men’s  estates,  and  other  inventions ; but  few  have  spoken, 
of  usury  usefully.” — Bacon’s  Essay,  Essay  41. 

^ He  is  speaking  ironically  of  the  usurers,  numbers  of  whom  frequented 
the  middle  Janus  in  the  forum. 


END  OP  SECOND  BOOK. 


CHAP.  I. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


115 


BOOK  III. 

I.  Publius  Scipio,  my  son  Marcus,  he  who  first  was 
surnamed  Africanus,  was  accustomed,  as  Cato,  who  was 
nearly  of  the  same  age  as  he,  has  written,  to  say  “ that  he 
was  never  less  at  leisure  than  wdien  at  leisure,  nor  less  alone 
than  when  he  was  alone.”  A truly  noble  saying,  and  worthy 
of  a great  and  wise  man,  which  declares  that  both  in  his 
leisure  he  was  accustomed  to  reflect  on  business,  and  in 
solitude  to  converse  with  himself ; so  that  he  never  was  idle, 
aod  sometimes  was  not  in  need  of  the  conversation  of  an- 
other. Thus,  leisure  and  solitude,  two  things  which  cause 
languor  to  others,  sharpened  him.  I could  wish  it  were  in 
my  power  to  say  the  same.  But  if  I can  not  quite  attain  to 
any  intimation  of  so  great  an  excellence  of  disposition,  I 
come  very  near  it,  in  will  at  least.  For,  being  debarred  by 
impious  arms  and  force  from  public  affairs  and  forensic 
business,  I remain  in  retirement ; and  on  that  account 
having  left  the  city,  wandering  about  the  fields,  I am  often 
alone.  But  neither  is  this  leisure  to  be  compared  with  the 
leisure  of  Africanus,  nor  this  solitude  with  that.  For  he, 
reposing  from  the  most  honorable  employments  of  the  state, 
sometimes  took  leisure  to  himself,  and  sometimes  betook 
himself  from  the  concourse  and  haunts  of  men  into  his  soli- 
tude as  into  a haven:  but  my  retirement  is  occasioned  by 
the  want  of  business,  not  by  the  desire  of  repose.  For,  the 
senate  being  extinct,  and  courts  of  justice  abolished,  what  is 
there  that  I could  do  worthy  of  myself,  either  in  the  senate- 
house  or  in  the  forum  ? Thus,  I who  formerly  lived  in  the 
greatest  celebrity,  and  before  the  eyes  of  the  citizens,  now 
shunning  the  sight  of  wicked  men,  with  whom  all  places 
abound,  conceal  myself  as  far  as  it  is  possible,  and  often 
am  alone.  But  since  we  have  been  taught  by  learned  men, 
that  out  of  evils  it  is  fit  not  only  to  choose  the  least,  but  also 
from  those  very  evils  to  gather  whatever  is  good  in  them,  I 


116 


CICERO’S  OFFICES 


BOOK  III 


therefore  am  both  enjoying  rest — not  such,  indeed,  as  he 
ought  who  formerly  procured  rest  for  the  state, — and  I am 
not  allowing  that  solitude  which  necessity,  not  inclination, 
brings  me,  to  be  spent  in  idleness.  Although,  in  my  judg- 
ment, Africanus  obtained  greater  praise.  For  there  are  ex- 
tant no  monuments  of  his  genius  committed  to  writing — 
no  work  of  his  leisure — no  employment  of  his  solitude. 
From  which  it  ought  to  be  understood  that  he  was  never 
either  idle  or  solitary,  because  of  the  activity  of  his  mind, 
and  the  investigation  of  those  things  which  he  pursued  in 
thought.  But  I who  have  not  so  much  strength  that  I can 
be  drawn  away  from  solitude  by  silent  thought,  turn  all  my 
study  and  care  to  this  labor  of  composition.  And  thus  I 
have  written  more  in  a short  time,  since  the  overthrow  ot 
the  republic,  than  in  the  many  years  while  it  stood. 

II.  But  as  all  philosophy,  my  Cicero,  is  fruitful  and  pro- 
fitable, and  no  part  of  it  uncultivated  and  desert — so  no  part 
in  it  is  more  fruitful  and  profitable  than  that  about  duties, 
from  which  the  rules  of  living  consistently  and  virtuously 
are  derived.  Wherefore,  although  I trust  you  constantly 
hear  and  learn  these  matters  from  my  friend  Cratippus,  the 
prince  of  the  philosophers  within  our  memory,  yet  I think 
it  is  beneficial  that  your  ears  should  ring  on  all  sides 
with  such  discourse,  and  that  they,  if  it  were  possible,  should 
hear  nothing  else.  Which,  as  it  ought  to  be  done  by  all 
who  design  to  enter  upon  a virtuous  life,  so  I know  not 
but  it  ought  by  no  one  more  than  you ; for  you  stand  under 
no  small  expectation  of  emulating  my  industry — under  a 
great  one  of  emulating  my  honors — under  no  small  one,  per- 
haps, of  my  fame.  Besides,  you  have  incurred  a heavy  responsi- 
bility both  from  Athens  and  Cratippus ; and  since  you  have 
gone  to  these  as  to  a mart  for  good  qualities,  it  would  be  most 
scandalous  to  return  empty,  disgracing  the  reputation  both 
of  the  city  and  of  the  master.  Wherefore,  try  and  ac- 
complish as  much  as  you  can,  labor  with  your  mind  and 
with  your  industry  (if  it  be  labor  to  learn  rather  than  a 
pleasure),  and  do  not  permit  that,  when  all  things  have  been 
supplied  by  me,  you  should  seem  to  have  been  wanting  to 
yourself.  But  let  this  suffice ; for  we  have  often  written 
much  to  you  for  the  purpose  of  encouraging  you.  Now  let 
us  return  to  the  remaining  part  of  our  proposed  division. 


CHAP.  HL 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


m 


Panaetius,  then,  who  without  controversy  has  discoursed 
most  accurately  about  duties,  and  whom  I,  making  some  cor- 
rection, have  principally  followed,  having  proposed  three 
heads  under  which  men  were  accustomed  to  deliberate  and 
consult  about  duty — one,  when  they  were  in  doubt  whether 
that  about  which  they  were  considering  was  virtuous  or  base ; 
another,  whether  useful  or  unprofitable;  a third,  when  that 
which  had  the  appearance  of  virtue  was  in  opposition  to  that 
which  seemed  useful,  how  this  ought  to  be  determined;  ho 
unfolded  the  two  first  heads  in  three  books,  but  on  the  third 
head  he  said  that  he  would  afterward  write,  but  did  not 
perform  what  he  had  promised.  At  which  I am  the  more 
surprised  on  this  account,  that  it  is  recorded  by  his  disciple 
Posidonius,  that  Pansetius  lived  thirty  years  after  he  had 
published  those  books.  And  I am  surprised  that  this  matter 
should  be  only  briefly  touched  on  by  Posidonius  in  some 
commentaries,  especially  when  he  writes  that  there  is  no 
subject  in  all  philosophy  so  necessary.  But  by  no  means  do 
I agree  with  those  who  deny  that  this  subject  was  casually 
omitted  by  Panaetius,  but  that  it  was  designedly  abandoned, 
and  that  it  ought  not  to  have  been  written  at  all,  because 
utility  could  never  be  in  opposition  to  virtue.  On  which 
point  is  one  thing  that  may  admit  a doubt ; whether  this  head 
which  is  third  in  the  division  of  Panjetius,  ought  to  have 
been  taken  up,  or  whether  it  ought  to  have  been  altogether 
omitted.  The  other  thing  can  not  be  doubted,  that  it  was 
undertaken  by  PanaBtius,  but  left  unfinished.  For  he  who 
has  completed  two  parts  out  of  a three  fold  division,  must 
have  a third  remaining.  Besides,  in  the  end  of  the  third 
book  he  promises  that  he  will  afterward  write  about  this 
third  part.  To  this  is  also  added  a sufficient  witness,  Posi- 
donius, who  in  a certain  letter  writes  that  Publius  Rutilius 
Rufus,  who  had  been  a disciple  of  Pansetius,  had  been  ac- 
customed to  say,  that  as  no  painter  could  be  found  who  could 
finish  that  part  of  the  Coan  Venus  which  Apelles  had  left 
unfinished  (for  the  beauty  of  the  countenance  left  no  hope  of 
making  the  rest  of  the  body  correspond),  so  no  one  could  go 
through  with  those  things  which  Pansetius  had  omitted,  on 
account  of  the  excellence  of  those  parts  wdiich  he  had  com- 
pleted. 

III.  Wherefore,  there  can  not  be  a doubt  about  the  opinion 


118 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  HL 


of  Pansetius ; but  whether  it  was  right  in  him,  or  otherwise, 
to  join  this  third  part  to  the  investigation  of  duty,  about 
this,  perhaps,  there  may  be  a question.  For  whether  virtue 
be  the  only  good,  as  is  the  opinion  of  the  Stoics,  or  whether 
that  which  is  'sdrtuous  be,  as  it  appears  to  your  Peripatetics, 
so  much  the  greatest  good,  that  all  things  placed  on  the  other 
side  have  scarcely  the  smallest  weight ; it  is  not  to  be  doubted 
but  that  utility  never  can  compare  with  virtue.  Therefore 
we  have  learned  that  Socrates  used  to  execrate  those  who 
had  first  separated  in  theory  those  things  cohering  in  nature. 
To  whom,  indeed,  the  Stoics  have  so  far  assented,  that  they 
considered  that  whatever  is  virtuous  is  useful,  and  that  noth- 
ing can  be  useful  which  is  not  virtuous.  But  if  Pansetius 
was  one  who  would  say  that  virtue  was  to  be  cultivated  only 
on  this  account,  because  it  was  a means  of  procuring  profit, 
as  they  do  who  measure  the  desirableness  of  objects  either 
by  pleasure  or  by  the  absence  of  pain,  it  would  be  allowable 
for  him  to  say  that  our  interest  sometimes  is  opposed  to 
virtue.  But  as  he  was  one  who  judged  that  alone  to  be  good 
which  is  virtuous,  but  that  of  such  things  as  oppose  this 
with  some  appearance  of  utility,  neither  the  accession  can 
make  life  better,  nor  the  loss  make  it  worse,  it  appears  that 
he  ought  not  to  have  introduced  a deliberation  of  this  kind, 
in  which  what  seems  profitable  could  be  compared  with  that 
which  is  virtuous.  For  what  is  called  the  summum  honum 
by  the  Stoics,  to  live  agreeably  to  nature,  has,  I conceive, 
this  meaning — always  to  conform  to  virtue ; and  as  to  all 
other  things  which  may  be  according  to  nature,  to  take 
them  if  they  should  not  be  repugnant  to  virtue.  And  since 
this  is  so,  some  think  that  this  comparison  is  improperly  in- 
troduced, and  that  no  principle  should  be  laid  down  upon 
this  head.  And,  indeed,  that  perfection  of  conduct  which  is 
properly  and  truly  called  so,  exists  in  the  wise  alone,  and 
can  never  be  separated  from  virtue.  But  in  those  persons 
in  whom  there  is  not  perfect  wisdom,  that  perfection  can 
indeed  by  no  means  exist;  but  the  likeness  of  it  can.  For 
tlie  Stoics  call  all  those  duties  about  which  we  are  discours- 
ing in  these  books,  mean  duties  (media  officia).  These  are 
common,  and  extend  widely,  which  many  attain  by  the  good- 
ness of  natural  disposition,  and  by  progressive  improvement. 
But  that  duty  which  the  same  philosophers  call  right  (rec- 


CHAP.  IV, 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


119 


tum)y  is  perfect  and  absolute,  and,  as  the  same  philosophers 
say,  has  all  the  parts  perfect,  and  can  not  fall  to  the  lot  of  any 
but  the  wise  man.  But  when  any  thing  is  performed  in 
which  mean  duties  appear,  it  seems  to  be  abundantly  perfect, 
because  the  vulgar  do  not  at  all  understand  how  far  it  falls 
short  of  the  perfect;  but  as  far  as  they  understand,  they 
think  there  is  nothing  wanting.  Which  same  thing  comes 
to  pass  in  poems,  in  pictures,  and  in  many  other  matters, 
that  those  things  which  should  not  be  commended,  the  un- 
skillful aro  delighted  with  and  commend ; on  this  account,  I 
suppose,  that  there  is  in  these  things  some  merit  which 
catches  the  unskillful,  who  indeed  are  unable  to  judge  what 
deficiency  there  may  be  in  each.  Therefore,  when  they  are 
apprised  of  it  by  the  initiated,  they  readily  abandon  their 
opinion. 

lY.  These  duties,  then,  of  which  we  are  discoursing  in 
these  books,  they*  say  are  virtuous  in  some  secondary  degree 
— not  peculiar  to  the  wise  alone,  but  common  to  every  de- 
scription of  men.  By  these,  therefore,  all  are  moved  in 
whom  there  is  a natural  disposition  toward  virtue.  Nor, 
indeed,  when  the  two  Decii  or  the  two  Scipios  are  commem- 
orated as  brave  men,  or  when  Fabricius  and  Aristides  are 
called  just,  is  either  an  example  of  fortitude  looked  for  from 
the  former,  or  of  justice  from  the  latter,  as  from  Avise  men. 
For  neither  of  these  was  wise  in  such  a sense  as  we  wish  the 
term  wise  man  to  be  understood.  Nor  were  these  who  were 
esteemed  and  named  wise,  Marcus  Cato  and  Caius  Lselius, 
wise  men ; nor  were  even  those  famous  seven,^  but  from  the 
frequent  performance  of  mean  duties  they  bore  some  simili- 
tude and  appearance  of  wise  men.  Wherefore,  it  is  neither 
right  to  compare  that  which  is  truly  virtuous  with  what  is 
repugnant  to  utility,  nor  should  that  which  we  commonly 
call  virtuous,  which  is  cultivated  by  those  who  wish  to  be 
esteemed  good  men,  ever  be  compared  with  profits.  And 
that  virtue  which  falls  within  our  comprehension  is  as  much 
to  be  maintained  and  preserved  by  us,  as  that  which  is 
properly  called,  and  which  truly  is  virtue,  is  by  the  wise. 
For  otherwise,  whatever  advancement  is  made  toward  vir- 
tue, it  can  not  be  maintained.  But  these  remarks  are  made 

1 The  Stoics. 

2 The  seven  wise  men  of  Greece- 


20 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III. 


regarding  those  who  are  considered  good  men,  on  account 
of  their  observance  of  duties ; but  those  who  measure  all 
things  by  profit  and  advantage,  and  who  do  not  consider 
that  those  things  are  outweighed  by  virtue,  are  accustomed, 
in  deliberating,  to  compare  virtue  with  that  which  they 
think  profitable;  good  men  are  not  so  accustomed.  There- 
fore, I think  that  Pansetius,  when  he  said  that  men  were 
accustomed  to  deliberate  on  this  comparison,  meant  this 
very  thing  which  he  expressed — only  that  it  was  their  cus- 
tom, not  that  it  was  also  their  duty.  For  not  only  to  think 
more  of  what  seems  profitable  than  what  is  virtuous,  but 
even  to  compare  them  one  with  the  other,  and  to  hesitate 
between  them,  is  most  shameful.  What  is  it,  then,  that  is 
accustomed  at  times  to  raise  a doubt,  and  seems  necessary 
to  be  considered  ? I believe,  whenever  a doubt  arises, 
it  is  what  the  character  of  that  action  may  be  about 
which  one  is  considering.  For  oftentimes  it  happens,  that 
what  is  accustomed  to  be  generally  considered  disreputable, 
may  be  found  not  to  be  disreputable.  For  the  sake  of  ex- 
ample, let  a case  be  supposed  which  has  a wdde  applica- 
tion. What  can  be  greater  wickedness  than  to  slay  not 
only  a man,  but  even  an  intimate  friend  ? Has  he  then  in- 
volved himself  in  guilt,  who  slays  a tyrant,  however  inti- 
mate ? He  does  not  appear  so  to  the  Roman  people  at  least, 
who  of  all  great  exploits  deem  that  the  most  honorable.^ 

1 “ Tyrannicide,  or  the  assassination  of  usurpers  and  oppressive  princes, 
was  highly  extoUed  in  ancient  times,  because  it  both  freed  mankind  from 
many  of  these  monsters,  and  seemed  to  keep  the  others  in  awe  w^hom  the 
sword  and  poniard  could  not  reach.  But  history  and  experience  having 
since  convinced  us  that  this  practice  increases  the  jealousy  and  cruelty 
of  princes,  a Timoleon  and  a Brutus,  though  treated  with  indulgenco 
on  account  of  the  prejudices  of  their  times,  are  now  considered  as  very 
improper  models  for  imitation.” — Hume’s  “ Dissertation  on  the  Passions.” 

“ The  arguments  in  favor  of  tyrannicide  are  built  upon  a very  obvious 
principle.  ‘ Justice  ought  universally  to  be  administered.  Crimes  of  an 
inferior  description  are  restrained,  or  pretended  to  be  restrained,  by  tho 
ordinary  operations  of  jurisprudence.  But  criminals,  by  whom  the  wel- 
fare of  the  whole  is  attacked,  and  who  overturn  the  liberties  of  mankind, 
are  out  of  the  reach  of  this  restraint.  If  justice  be  partially  administered 
in  subordinate  cases,  and  the  rich  man  be  able  to  oppress  the  poor  with 
impunity,  it  must  be  admitted  that  a few  examples  of  this  sort  are  insuf- 
Gcient  to  authorize  the  last  appeal  of  human  beings ; but  no  man  will 
deny  that  the  case  of  the  usurper  and  the  despot  is  of  tho  most  atrocious 
nature.  In  this  instance,  all  tho  provisions  of  civil  policy  being  super- 


CHAP.  IT. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


121 


Has  expediency,  then,  overcome  virtue?  Nay,  rather,  expe- 
diency has  followed  virtue.  Therefore,  that  we  may  be 
able  to  decide  without  any  mistake,  if  ever  that  which  we 
call  expediency  {utile)  shall  appear  to  be  at  variance  with 
that  which  we  understand  to  be  virtuous  {honestum)^  a 
certain  rule  ought  to  be  established,  which  if  we  will  fol- 
low in  comparing  such  cases,  we  shall  never  fail  in  our 
duty.  But  this  rule  will  be  one  conformable  to  the  reason- 
ing and  discipline  of  the  Stoics  chiefly,  which,  indeed,  we 
are  following  in  these  books,  because,  though  both  by  the 
ancient  Academicians  and  by  your  Peripatetics,  who  form- 
erly were  the  same  sect,  things  which  are  virtuous 
are  preferred  to  those  which  seem  expedient;  nevertheless, 
those  subjects  are  more  nobly  treated  of  by  those^  to  whom 
whatever  is  virtuous  seems  also  expedient,  and  nothing  ex- 

seded,  and  justice  poisoned  at  the  source,  every  man  is  left  to  execute  for 
himself  the  decrees  of  immutable  equity.’  It  may,  however,  be  doubted, 
vrhether  the  destruction  of  a tyrant  be,  in  any  respect,  a case  of  excep- 
tion from  the  rules  proper  to  be  observed  upon  ordinary  occasions.  The 
tyrant  has,  indeed,  no  particular  security  annexed  to  his  person,  and 
may  be  killed  with  as  little  scruple  as  any  other  man,  when  the  object  is 
that  of  repelling  personal  assault.  In  all  other  cases,  the  extirpation  of 
the  offender  by  self-appointed  authority,  does  not  appear  to  be  the  ap- 
propriate mode  of  counteracting  injustice.  For,  first,  either  the  nation, 
whose  tyrant  you  would  destroy,  is  ripe  for  the  assertion  and  mainten- 
ance of  its  liberty,  or  it  is  not.  If  it  be,  the  tyrant  ought  to  be  deposed 
with  every  appearance  of  publicity.  Nothing  can  be  more  improper, 
than  for  an  affair,  interesting  to  the  general  weal,  to  be  conducted  as  if* 
it  were  an  act  of  darkness  and  shame.  It  is  an  ill  lesson  we  read  to 
mankind,  when  a proceeding,  built  upon  the  broad  basis  of  general  jus- 
tice, is  permitted  to  shrink  from  public  scrutiny.  The  pistol  and  the 
dagger  may  as  easily  be  made  the  auxiliaries  of  vice  as  of  virtue.  To 
proscribe  all  violence,  and  neglect  no  means  of  information  and  impar- 
tiality, is  the  most  effectual  security  we  can  have  for  an  issue  conformable 
to  reasoh  and  truth.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  nation  be  not  ripe  for  a 
state  of  freedom,  the  man  who  assumes  to  himself  the  right  of  interposing 
violence,  may  indeed  show  the  fervor  of  his  conception,  and  gain  a cer- 
tain notoriety ; but  he  will  not  fail  to  be  the  author  of  new  calamities  to 
his  country.  The  consequences  of  tyrannicide  are  well  known.  If  the 
attempt  prove  abortive,  it  renders  the  tyrant  ten  times  more  bloody, 
ferocious,  and  cruel  than  before.  If  it  succeed,  and  the  tyranny  be  res- 
tored, it  produces  the  same  effect  upon  his  successors.  In  the  climate 
of  despotism  some  solitary  virtues  may  spring  up ; but  in  the  midst  of 
plots  and  conspiracies,  there  is  neither  truth,  nor  confidence,  nor  love, 
nor  humanity.” — Godwin’s  “Political  Justice,”  book  iv.  chap.  iv. 

1 The  Stoics. 


6 


122 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III. 


pedient  whicli  is  not  virtuous,  than  by  those  according  to 
whom  that  may  be  virtuous  which  is  not  expedient,  and  that 
expedient  which  is  not  virtuous.  But  to  us,  our  Academic 
sect  gives  this  great  license,  that  we,  whatever  may  seem 
most  probable,  by  our  privilege  are  at  liberty  to  maintain. 
But  I return  to  my  rule. 

V.  To  take  away  wrongfully,  then,  from  another,  and  for 
one  man  to  advance  his  own  interests  by  the  disadvantage 
of  another  man,  is  more  contrary  to  nature  than  death,  than 
poverty,  than  pain,  than  any  other  evils  which  can  befall 
either  our  bodies  or  external  circumstances.  For,  in  the 
first  place,  it  destroys  human  intercourse  and  society;  for 
if  we  will  be  so  disposed  that  each  for  his  own  gain  shall 
despoil  or  offer  violence  to  another,  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence is,  that  the  society  of  the  human  race,  which 
is  most  consistent  with  nature,  will  be  broken  asunder. 
As,  supposing  each  member  of  the  body  was  so  disposed  as 
to  think  it  could  be  well  if  it  should  draw  to  itself  the 
health  of  the  adjacent  member,  it  is  inevitable  that  the 
whole  body  would  be  debilitated  and  would  perish ; so 
if  each  of  us  should  seize  for  himself  the  interests  of 
another,  and  wrest  whatever  he  could  from  each  for  the  sake 
of  his  own  emolument,  the  necessary  consequence  is,  that 
human  society  and  community  would  be  overturned.  It  is 
indeed  allowed,  nature  not  opposing,  that  each  should  rather 
acquire  for  himself  than  for  another,  whatever  pertains  to 
the  enjoyment  of  life ; but  nature  does  not  allow  this,  that 
by  the  spoliation  of  others  we  should  increase  our  own 
means,  resources,  and  opulence.  ISTor  indeed  is  this  forbid- 
den by  nature  alone — that  is,  by  the  law  of  nations — but 
it  is  also  in  the  same  manner  enacted  by  the  municipal  laws 
of  countries,  by  which  government  is  supported  in  individual 
states,  that  it  should  not  be  lawful  to  injure  another  man  for 
the  sake  of  one’s  own  advantage.^  For  this  the  laws  look  to, 
this  they  require,  that  the  union  of  the  citizens  should  bo 
unimpaired ; those  who  are  for  severing  it  they  coerce  by 
death,  by  banishment,  by  imprisonment,  by  fine.  But  what 
declares  this  much  more  is  our  natural  reason,  which  is  a 
law  divine  and  human,  which  he  who  is  willing  to  obey 

^ “La  plus  sublime  vertu  est  negative ; elle nous instruit  de  ne  jamais 
faire  du  mal  a personne.” — Rousseau. 


CHAP.  T. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


123 


(and  all  will  obey  it  who  are  willing  to  live  according  to 
nature)  never  will  suffer  himself  to  covet  what  is  another 
person’s,  and  to  assume  to  himself  that  which  he  shall  have 
wrongfully  taken  from  another.^  For  loftiness  and  greatness 
of  mind,  and  likewise  community  of  feeling,  justice  and  liber- 
ality, are  much  more  in  accordance  with  nature,  than  pleas- 
ure, than  life,  than  riches — which  things,  even  to  contemn 
and  count  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  common  good, 
is  the  part  of  a great  and  lofty  soul.  Therefore,  to  take  away 
wrongfully  from  another  for  the  sake  of  one’s  own  advan- 
tage, is  more  contrary  to  nature  than  death,  than  pain,  than 
other  considerations  of  the  same  kind.  And  likewise,  to 
undergo  the  greatest  labors  and  inquietudes  for  the  sake,  if 
it  were  possible,  of  preserving  or  assisting  all  nations — 
imitating  that  Hercules  whom  the  report  of  men,  mindful  of 
his  benefits,  has  placed  in  the  council  of  the  gods^ — is  more 
in  accordance  with  nature  than  to  live  in  solitude,  not  only 
without  any  inquietudes,  but  even  amid  the  greatest  pleas- 
ures, abounding  in  all  manner  of  wealth,  though  you  should 
also  excel  in  beauty  and  strength.  Wherefore,  every  man  of 
the  best  and  most  noble  disposition  much  prefers  that  life 
to  this.  From  whence  it  is  evinced  that  man,  obeying 
nature,  can  not  injure  men.  In  the  next  place,  he  who 
injures  another  that  he  may  himself  attain  some  advantage, 
cither  thinks  that  he  is  doing  nothing  contrary  to  nature,  or 

1 “ The  word  natural  is  commonly  taken  in  so  many  senses,  and  is  of 
so  loose  a signification,  that  it  seems  vain  to  dispute  whether  justice  be 
natural  or  not.  If  self-love,  if  benevolence,  be  natural  to  man — if  reason 
and  forethought  be  also  natural — then  may  the  same  epithet  be  applied 
to  justice,  order,  fidelity,  property,  society.  Men’s  inclination,  their  ne- 
cessities, lead  them  to  combine ; their  understanding  and  experience  tell 
them  that  this  combination  is  impossible,  where  each  governs  himself  by 
no  rule,  and  pays  no  regard  to  the  possessions  of  others : and  from  these 
passions  and  refiections  conjoined,  as  soon  as  we  observe  like  passions 
and  refiections  in  others,  the  sentiment  of  justice,  throughout  all  ages, 
has  infallibly  and  certainly  had  place  in  some  degree  or  other,  in  every 
individual  of  the  human  species.  In  so  sagacious  an  animal,  what  nec- 
essarily arises  from  the  exertion  of  his  intellectual  faculties,  may  justly 
be  esteemed  natural.” — ^Hume’s  “Principles  of  Morals.”  Appendix  III. 

2 Horace  adopts  the  same  illustration  in  the  following  passage  • 

“ Dignum  laude  virum  Musa  vetat  mori : 

Coelo  Musa  beat.  Sic  Jovis  interest 
Optatis  epulis  impiger  Hercules.” 

Lib.  iv.  Carm.  8,  ver.  28-30. 


124 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III. 


thinks  that  death,  poverty,  pain,  the  loss  cf  children,  of 
kindred,  and  of  friends,  are  more  to  be  avoided  than  doing 
injury  to  another.  If  he  thinks  that  nothing  is  done  contrary  to 
nature  by  injuring  men,  what  use  is  there  in  disputing  with  him 
who  would  altogether  take  away  from  man  what  is  human  ? 
But  if  he  thinks  that  indeed  is  to  be  shunned,  but  that  those 
things,  death,  poverty,  pain,  are  much  worse,  he  errs  in  this,  that 
lie  thinks  any  defect,  either  of  body  or  fortune,  more  grievous 
than  the  defects  of  the  mind. 

VI.  One  thing,  therefore,  ought  to  be  aimed  at  by  all  men ; 
that  the  interest  of  each  individually,  and  of  all  collectively, 
should  be  the  same  ; for  if  each  should  grasp  at  his  individual 
interest,  all  human  society  will  be  dissolved.  And  also,  if 
nature  enjoins  this,  that  a man  should  desire  to  consult  the  in- 
terest of  a man,  whoever  he  is,  for  the  very  reason  that  he  is 
man,  it  necessarily  follows  that,  as  the  nature,  so  the  interest, 
of  all  mankind,  is  a common  one.  If  that  be  so,  we  are  all 
included  under  one  and  the  same  law  of  nature  ; and  if  this 
too  be  true,  we  are  certainly  prohibited  by  the  law  of  nature 
from  injuring  another.  But  the  first  is  true;  therefore,  the 
last  is  true.  For  that  which  some  say,  that  they  would  take 
nothing  wrongfully,  for  the  sake  of  their  own  advantage, 
from  a parent  or  brother,  but  that  the  case  is  different  with 
other  citizens,  is  indeed  absurd.  These  establish  the  principle 
that  they  have  nothing  in  the  way  of  right,  no  society  with 
their  fellow-citizens,  for  the  sake  of  the  common  interest — 
an  opinion  which  tears  asunder  the  whole  social  compact. 
They,  again,  who  say  that  a regard  ought  to  be  had  to  fellow- 
citizens,  but  deny  that  it  ought  to  foreigners,  break  up  the  com- 
mon society  of  the  human  race,  which,  being  withdrawn,  bene- 
ficence, liberality,  goodness,  justice,  are  utterly  abolished.  But 
they  who  tear  up  these  things  should  be  judged  impious,  even 
toward  the  immortal  gods ; for  they  overturn  the  society  es- 
tablished by  them  among  men,  the  closest  bond  of  which  so- 
ciety is,  the  consideration  that  it  is  more  contrary  to  nature 
that  man,  for  the  sake  of  his  own  gain,  should  wrongfully  take 
from  man,  than  that  he  should  endure  all  such  disadvantages, 
either  external  or  in  the  person,  or  even  in  the  mind  itself,  as 
are  not  the  effects  of  injustice.  For  that  one  virtue,  justice,  is 
the  mistress  and  queen  of  all  virtues.^ 

^ There  is  no  virtue  so  truly  great  and  godlike  as  justice  ; most  cf  tli  j 


CHAP.  VI. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


125 


Some  person  will  perhaps  say — should  not  the  wise  man, 
then,  if  himself  famished  with  hunger,  wrest  food  from 
another,  some  good-for-nothing  fellow  ? By  no  means ; for 
my  life  is  not  more  useful  to  me  than  such  a disposition 
of  mind  that  I would  do  violence  to  no  man  for  the  sake 
of  my  own  advantage.  What ! If  a worthy  man  could 
despoil  Phalaris,  a cruel  and  outrageous  tyrant,  of  his  gar- 
ments, that  he  might  not  himself  perish  with  cold,  should  he 
not  do  it?  These  points  are  very  easy  to  decide.  For  if 
you  will  wrongfully  take  away  any  thing  from  a good-for- 
nothing  man  for  the  sake  of  your  own  interest,  you  will  act 
unsociably  and  contrary  to  the  law  of  nature.  But  if  you 
be  one  who  can  bring  much  advantage  to  the  state,  and  to 
human  society  if  you  remain  in  life,  it  may  not  deserve  to 
be  reprehended  should  you  wrongfully  take  any  thing  upon 
that  account  from  another.  But  if  that  be  not  the  case, 
it  is  rather  the  duty  of  each  to  bear  his  own  misfortune,  than 
wrongfully  to  take  from  the  comforts  of  another.  Disease, 
then,  or  poverty,  or  any  thing  of  this  sort,  is  not  more  con- 
trary to  nature  than  is  the  wrongful  taking  or  coveting  what 
is  another’s.  But  the  desertion  of  the  common  interest  is 

other  virtues  are  the  virtues  of  created  beings,  or  accommodated  to  our 
nature,  as  we  are  men.  Justice  is  that  which  is  practiced  by  God  himself, 
and  to  be  practiced  in  its  perfection  by  none  but  him.  Omniscience  and 
omnipotence  are  requisite  for  the  full  exertion  of  it : the  one  to  discover 
every  degree  of  uprightness  or  iniquity  in  thoughts,  words,  and  actions ; 
the  other  to  measure  out  and  impart  suitable  rewards  and  punishments. 

“ As  to  be  perfectly  just  is  an  attribute  in  the  divine  nature,  to  be  so 
to  the  utmost  of  our  abilities  is  the  glory  of  a man.  Such  a one  who  has 
the  public  administration  in  his  hands,  acts  like  the  representative  of  his 
Maker,  in  recompensing  the  virtuous  and  punishing  the  offender.  By  tho 
extirpating  of  a criminal  he  averts  the  judgments  of  Heaven  when  ready 
to  fall  upon  an  impious  people ; or,  as  my  friend  Cato  expresses  it  much 
better  in  a sentiment  conformable  to  his  character: — 

“ *When  by  just  vengeance  impious  mortals  perish. 

The  gods  behold  their  punishment  with  pleasure. 

And  lay  th’  uplifted  thunderbolt  aside.’ 

"When  a nation  loses  its  regard  to  justice;  when  they  do  not  look  upon 
it  as  something  venerable,  holy,  and  inviolable  ; when  any  of  them  dare 
presume  to  lessen  affront,  or  verify  those  who  have  the  distribution  of  it 
in  their  hands ; when  a judge  is  capable  of  being  influenced  by  any  thing 
but  law,  or  a cause  may  be  recommended  by  any  thing  that  is  foreign  to 
its  own  merits,  we  may  venture  to  pronounce  that  such  a nation  is  ha«a* 
tening  to  its  ruin.” — Guardian^  No.-  99. 


126 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III. 


contrary  to  nature,  for  it  is  unjust.  Therefore,  the  very  law 
of  nature  which  preserves  and  governs  the  interest  of  men, 
decrees  undoubtedly  that  things  necessary  for  living  should 
be  transferred  from  an  inert  and  useless  fellow  to  a wise, 
good,  and  brave  man,  who,  if  he  should  perish,  would  largely 
take  away  from  the  common  good  ; provided  he  do  this^  in 
such  a manner,  that  he  do  not,  through  thinking  well  of 
himself,  and  loving  himself,  make  this  an  excuse  for  com- 
mitting injustice.  Thus  will  he  always  discharge  his  duty, 
advancing  the  interests  of  mankind,  and  that  human  so- 
ciety of  which  I so  often  make  mention.^  Now,  as  to  what 

1 That  is,  provided  he  transfer  to  himself  the  necessaries  of  life  from 
a worthless  person. 

2 “In  a loose  and  general  view,”  says  Godwin,  ‘*I  and  my  neighbor 
are  both  of  us  men ; and  of  consequence  entitled  to  equal  attention. 
But,  in  reality,  it  is  probable  that  one  of  us  is  a being  of  more  worth 
and  importance  than  the  other.  A man  is  of  more  worth  than  a beast, 
because,  being  possessed  of  higher  faculties,  he  is  capable  of  a more  re- 
fined and  genuine  happiness.  In  the  same  manner  the  illustrious  Arch- 
bishop of  Cambray  was  of  more  worth  than  his  valet,  and  there  are  few 
of  us  that  would  hesitate  to  pronounce,  if  his  palace  were  in  flames,  and 
the  life  of  only  one  of  them  could  be  preserved,  which  of  the  two  ought 
to  be  preferred.  But  there  is  another  ground  of  preference,  besides  the 
private  consideration  of  one  of  them  being  further  removed  from  the  stato 
of  a mere  animal.  We  are  not  connected  with  one  or  two  percipient 
beings,  but  with  a society,  a nation,  and  in  some  sense  with  the  whole 
family  of  mankind.  Of  consequence  that  life  ought  to  be  preferred  which 
wiU  be  most  conducive  to  the  general  good.  In  saving  the  life  of  Fenelon, 
suppose  at  that  moment  he  conceived  the  project  of  his  immortal  Tele- 
machus,  I should  have  been  promoting  the  benefit  of  thousands  who  have 
been  cured  by  the  perusal  of  that  work  of  some  error,  vice,  and  conse- 
quent unhappiness.  Nay,  my  benefit  would  extend  further  than  this ; for 
every  individual  thus  cured,  has  become  a better  member  of  society,  and 
has  contributed  in  his  turn  to  the  happiness,  information,  and  improve- 
ment of  others.  Suppose  I had  been  myself  the  valet,  I ought  to  have 
chosen  to  die  rather  than  Fenelon  should  have  died ; the  life  of  Fenelon 
was  really  preferable  to  that  of  the  valet.  But  understanding  is  the  fac- 
ulty-that  perceives  the  truth  of  this  and  similar  propositions,  and  justice 
is  the  principle  that  regulates  my  conduct  accordingly.  It  would  have 
been  just  in  the  valet  to  have  preferred  the  archbishop  to  himself;  to  have 
done  otherwise  would  have  been  a breach  of  justice.  Suppose  the  valet 
had  been  my  brother,  my  father,  or  my  benefactor,  this  would  not  alter 
the  truth  of  the  proposition.  The  life  of  Fenelon  would  still  be  more 
valuable  than  that  of  the  valet ; and  justice,  pure  and  unadulterated 
justice,  would  still  have  preferred  that  which  was  most  valuable.  Justice 
would  have  taught  me  to  save  the  life  of  Fenelon  at  the  expense  of  the 
other.” — Political  Justice,  book  ii.  chap.  2. 


CHAP,  VII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


12) 


relates  to  Phalaris,  the  decision  is  very  easy ; for  we  have  no 
society  with  tyrants,  but  rather  the  widest  separation  from 
them ; nor  is  it  contrary  to  nature  to  despoil,  if  you  can,  him 
whom  it  is  a virtue  to  slay — and  this  pestilential  and  impious 
class  ought  to  be  entirely  exterminated  from  the  community 
of  mankind.  For  as  certain  limbs  are  amputated,  both  if  they 
themselves  have  begun  to  be  destitute  of  blood,  and,  as  it  were, 
of  life,  and  if  they  injure  the  other  parts  of  the  body,  so  the 
brutality  and  ferocity  of  a beast  in  the  figure  of  a man,  ought 
to  be  cut  off  from  the  common  body,  as  it  were,  of  humanity. 

Of  this  sort  are  all  those  questions  in  which  our  duty  is  sought 
out  of  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 

yil.  In  this  manner,  then,  I think  Pansetius  would  have 
pursued  these  subjects,  had  not  some  accident  or  occupation 
interrupted  his  design ; for  which  same  deliberations  there 
are  in  his  former  books  rules  sufficiently  numerous,  by  which 
it  can  be  perceived  what  ought  to  be  avoided  on  account  of 
its  baseness,  and  what  therefore  need  not  be  avoided  because 
it  is  not  at  afi  base.  But  since  I am  putting,  as  it  were,  the 
top  upon  a vrork  incomplete,  yet  nearly  finished,  as  it  is  the 
custom  of  geometers  not  to  demonstrate  every  thing,  but  to 
require  that  some  postulates  be  granted  to  them,  that  they 
may  more  readily  explain  what  they  intend,  so  I ask  of  you 
my  Cicero,  that  you  grant  me,  if  you  can,  that  nothing 
except  what  is  virtuous  is  worthy  to  be  sought  for  its  own 
sake.  But  if  this  be  not  allowed  you  by  Cratippus,^  still  you 
will  at  least  grant  that  what  is  virtuous  is  most  worthy  to  be 
sought  for  its  own  sake.  Wliichever  of  the  two  you  please  is 
sufficient  for  me,  and  sometimes  the  one,  sometimes  the  other, 
seems  the  more  probable ; nor  does  any  thing  else  seem  probable,^ 

And  in  the  first  place,  Panaetius  is  to  be  defended  in  this, 
that  he  did  not  say  that  the  really  expedient  could  ever  be 
opposed  to  the  virtuous  (for  it  was  not  permitted  to  him^  to 

1 Cratippus,  as  a Peripatetic,  held  that  virtue  was  not  the  only  good, 
hut  that  other  things,  such  as  health,  etc.,  were  good,  and  therefore  to 
he  sought  for  their  own  sakes,  though  in  a less  degree  than  virtue ; or, 
in  other  words,  the  Peripatetics  admitted  natural  as  well  as  moral  good 
— the  Stoics  did  not. 

That  is  to  say,  he  does  not  admit  the  prohahility  of  the  correctness 
of  such  as  Epicurus,  or  Hieronymus,  etc.,  who  held  that  pleasure,  the 
absence  of  pain,  eta,  were  worth  seeking  on  their  own  account 

3 Because  he  was  a Stoic. 


128 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  IIL 


say  so),  but  only  those  things  which  seemed  expedient.  But 
he  often  bears  testimony  that  nothing  is  expedient  which  is  not 
likewise  virtuous — nothing  virtuous  which  is  not  likewise  ex- 
pedient ; and  he  denies  that  any  greater  mischief  has  ever  at- 
tacked the  race  of  men  than  the  opinion  of  those  persons  who 
would  separate  these  things.  It  was  not,  therefore,  in  order 
that  we  should  prefer  the  expedient  to  the  virtuous,  but  in  order 
that  we  should  decide  between  them  without  error,  if  ever  they 
should  come  in  collision,  that  he  introduced  that  opposition 
which  seemed  to  have,  not  which  has,  existence.  This  part, 
therefore,  thus  abandoned,  I will  complete  with  no  help,  but,  as 
it  is  said  with  my  own  forces.  For  there  has  not,  since  the 
time  of  Pansetius,  been  any  thing  delivered  upon  this  subject,  of 
all  the  works  which  have  come  to  my  hands,  that  meets  my  ap- 
probation. 

VIII.  When,  therefore,  any  appearance  of  expediency  is 
presented  to  you,  you  are  necessarily  affected  by  it ; but  if, 
when  you  direct  your  attention  to  it,  you  see  moral  turpitude 
attached  to  that  which  offers  the  appearance  of  expediency, 
then  you  are  under  an  obligation  not  to  abandon  expediency, 
but  to  understand  that  there  can  not  be  real  expediency 
where  there  is  moral  turpitude ; because,  since  nothing  is 
so  contrary  to  nature  as  moral  turpitude  (for  nature  desires 
the  upright,  the  suitable  and  the  consistent,  and  rejects  the 
reverse),  and  nothing  is  so  agreeable  to  nature  as  expe- 
diency, surely  expediency  and  turpitude  can  not  co-exist  in 
the  same  subject.  And  again,  since  we  are  born  for 
virtue,  and  this  either  is  the  only  thing  to  be  desired,  as 
it  appeared  to  Zeno,  or  is  at  least  to  be  considered  weightier 
in  its  entire  importance  than  all  other  things,  as  is  the 
opinion  of  Aristotle,  it  is  the  necessary  consequence,  that 
whatever  is  virtuous  either  is  the  only,  or  it  is  the  highest 
good ; but  whatever  is  good  is  certainly  useful — therefore, 
whatever  is  virtuous  is  useful.^  Wherefore,  it  is  an  error 

' The  following  parallel  passage  will  not  only  show  how  nearly  the 
ethics  of  Cicero  approach  to  those  of  a Christian  philosopher,  but  will  also 
suggest  the  reason  why  they  are  not  entirely  coincident.  “ It  is  suffi- 
ciently evident,”  says  Dymond,  upon  the  principles  which  have  hitherto 
been  advanced,  “ that  considerations  of  utility  are  only  so  far  obligatory, 
as  they  are  in  accordance  with  the  moral  law.  Pursuing,  however,  the 
method  which  has  been  adopted  in  the  two  last  chapters,  it  may  be  ob- 
served that  this  subserviency  to  the  Divine  will,  appears  to  be  required 


CHAP.  IX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


129 


of  bad  men,  which,  when  it  grasps  at  something  which  seems 
useful,  separates  it  immediately  from  virtue.  Hence  spring 
stilettos,  hence  poisons,  hence  forgery  of  wills,  hence  thefts, 
embezzlements,  hence  robberies  and  extortions  from  allies 
and  fellow-citizens,  hence  the  intolerable  oppressions  of  ex- 
cessive opulence — Whence,  in  fine,  even  in  free  states,  the  lust 
of  sway,  than  which  nothing  darker  or  fouler  can  be  con- 
ceived. For  men  view  the  profits  of  transactions  with  false 
judgment,  but  they  do  not  see  the  punishment — I do  not 
say  of  the  laws,  which  they  often  break  through,  but  of 
moral  turpitude  itself,  which  is  more  severe.  Wherefore, 
this  class  of  skeptics  should  be  put  out  of  our  consider- 
ation (as  being  altogether  wicked  and  impious),  who 
hesitate  whether  they  should  follow  that  which  they  see  is 
virtuous,  or  knowingly  contaminate  themselves  with  wicked- 
ness. For  the  guilty  deed  exists  in  the  very  hesitation,  even 
though  they  shall  not  have  carried  it  out.  Therefore,  such 
matters  should  not  be  at  all  deliberated  about,  in  which  the 
very  deliberation  is  criminal ; and  also  from  every  delibera- 
tion the  hope  and  idea  of  secrecy  and  concealment  ought  to 
be  removed.  For  we  ought  to  be  sufliciently  convinced,  if 
we  have  made  any  proficiency  in  philosophy,  that  even  though 
we  could  conceal  any  transaction  from  all  gods  and  men,  yet 
that  nothing  avaricious  should  be  done,  nothing  unjust, 
nothing  licentious,  nothing  incontinent. 

IX.  To  this  purpose  Plato  introduces  that  celebrated 

bj  the  written  revelation.  The  habitual  preference  of  futurity  to  the 
present  time  which  Scripture  exhibits,  indicates  that  our  interests  here 
should  be  held  in  subordination  to  our  interests  hereafter ; and  as  these 
higher  interests  are  to  be  consulted  hy  the  means  which  revelation  pre- 
scribes, it  is  manifest  that  those  means  are  to  be  pursued,  whatever  wo 
may  suppose  to  be  their  effects  upon  the  present  welfare  of  ourselves  or 
of  other  men.  ‘ If  in  this  life  only  we  have  hope  in  God,  then  are  we  of 
all  men  most  miserable.’  And  why  did  they  thus  sacrifice  expediency  ? 
Because  the  communicated  will  of  God  required  that  course  of  life  by 
which  human  interests  were  apparently  sacrificed.  It  will  be  perceived 
that  these  considerations  result  from  the  truth  (too  little  regarded  in 
talking  of  ‘expediency’  and  ‘general  benevolence’),  that  utility  as  res- 
pects mankind  can  not  be  properly  consulted  without  taking  into  account 
our  interests  in  futurity.  ‘Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die,’ 
is  a maxim  of  which  all  would  approve  if  we  had  no  concerns  with 
another  life.  That  which  might  be  very  expedient  if  death  were  anni- 
hilation, may  be  very  inexpedient  now.” — Essay  on  Morality,  Essay  T. 
chap.  iii.  ^ 


130 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III. 


Oyges,  who,  when  the  earth  had  opened,  in  consequence  of 
certain  heavy  showers,  descended  into  that  chasm,  and,  as 
tradition  goes,  beheld  a brazen  horse,  in  whose  side  was  a 
door,  on  opening  which  he  beheld  the  body  of  a dead  man 
of  extraordinary  size,  and  a gold  ring  upon  his  finger,  which 
when  he  had  drawn  oft‘,  he  himself  put  it  on,  and  then  betook 
himself  to  the  assemby  of  the  shepherds  (for  he  was  the 
king’s  shepherd).  There,  when  he  turned  the  stone  of  this 
ring  to  the  palm  of  his  hand,  he  was  visible  to  no  person,  but 
himself  saw  every  thing;  and  when  he  had  turned  the  ring 
into  its  proper  place,  he  again  became  visible.  Having  em- 
ployed, then,  this  convenience  of  the  ring,  he  committed 
adultery  with  the  queen,  and,  with  her  assistance,  slew  the 
king,  his  master,  and  got  rid  of  those  whom  he  considered  likely 
to  oppose  him.  Nor  could  any  one  discover  him  in  these 
crimes.  So  with  the  assistance  of  the  ring  he  suddenly 
sprang  up  to  be  king  of  Lydia.  Now,  if  a wise  man  had 
this  ring  itself,  he  would  think  that  he  was  no  more  at  liberty 
to  commit  crime  than  if  he  had  it  not.  For  virtue,  not 
secrecy,  is  sought  by  good  men.  And  here  some  philosophers, 
and  they  indeed  by  no  means  unworthy  men,  but  not  very 
acute,  say  that  the  story  told  by  Plato  is  false  and  fabulous, 
just  as  if  he  indeed  maintained  either  that  it  had  happened 
or  could  have  happened.  The  import  of  this  ring  and  of  this 
example  is  this — if  nobody  were  to  know,  nobody  even  to 
suspect  that  you  were  doing  any  thing  for  the  sake  of  riches, 
power,  domination,  lust — if  it  would  he  for  ever  unknown  to 
gods  and  men,  would  you  do  it  ? They  deny  that  the  case 
is  possible.  But  though  indeed  it  be  possible,  I only  inquire 
what  they  would  do  if  that  were  possible  which  they  deny 
to  be  so.  They  argue  very  stupidly,  for  they  simply  deny 
that  it  is  possible,  and  they  persist  in  that  answer.  They  do 
not  perceive  what  is  the  force  of  that  expression,  “ if  it  were 
possible.”  For  when  we  ask  what  they  would  do  if  they 
possibly  could  conceal,  we  are  not  asking  whether  they  really 
could  conceal ; but  we  are  putting  them,  as  it  were,  to  the 
torture,  that  if  they  answer  that  they  would  do,  if  impunity 
were  offered,  what  it  was  their  interest  to  do,  they  must 
confess  that  they  are  wicked  ; if  they  deny  that  they  would 
do  so,  they  must  admit  that  all  base  actions  are  to  be  shunned 
on  their  own  account.  But  now  let  us  return  to  our  subject. 


CHAP.  X. 


CICEKO’S  OFFICES. 


131 


X.  Many  cases  frequently  occur,  which  disturb  our  minds 
by  the  appearance  of  expediency.  Xot  when  this  is  the 
subject  of  deliberation,  whether  virtue  should  be  deserted 
on  account  of  the  magnitude  of  the  profit  (for  on  this,  indeed, 
it  is  dishonest  to  deliberate),  but  this,  whether  or  no  that 
which  seems  profitable  can  be  done  without  baseness.  When 
Brutus  deposed  his  colleague,  Collatinus,  from  his  command, 
he  might  seem  to  be  acting  with  injustice;  for  Collatinus 
had  been  the  associate  and  assistant  in  the  councils  of  Brutus 
in  expelling  the  kings.  But  when  the  rulers  had  taken 
this  counsel,  that  the  kindred  of  Superbus,  and  the  name  of 
the  Tarquinii,  and  the  memory  of  royalty  were  to  be  rooted 
out ; that  which  was  useful,  namely,  to  consult  for  his 
country,  was  so  virtuous  that  it  ought  to  have  pleased  even 
Collatinus  himself.  Therefore  the  expediency  of  the  measure 
prevailed  with  Brutus  on  account  of  its  rectitude,  without 
which  expediency  could  not  have  even  existed.  But  it  was 
otherwise  in  that  king  who  founded  the  city ; for  the  appear- 
ance of  expediency  influenced  his  mind,  since,  when  it  seemed 
to  him  more  profitable  to  reign  alone  than  with  another,  he  slew 
his  brother.  He  disregarded  both  affection  and  humanity, 
that  he  might  obtain  that  which  seemed  useful,  but  was  not. 
And  yet  he  set  up  the  excuse  about  the  wall — a pretense  of  virtue 
neither  probable  nor  very  suitable  : therefore,  with  all  due  respect 
to  Quirinus  or  Romulus,^  I would  say  that  he  committed  a crime. 

Yet  our  own  interests  should  not  be  neglected  by  us,  nor 
given  up  to  others  when  we  ourselves  want  them ; but  each 
should  serve  his  own  interest,  as  far  as  it  can  be  done  with- 
out injustice  to  another : — Chrysippus  has  judiciously  made 
this  remark  like  many  others  : — “ He,  who  runs  a race, 
ought  to  make  exertions,  and  struggle  as  much  as  he  can 
to  be  victor ; but  he  ought  by  no  means  to  trip  up  or  push 
with  his  hand  the  person  with  whom  he  is  contesting. 
Thus  in  life  it  is  not  unjust  that  each  should  seek  for  himself 
what  may  pertain  to  his  advantage — it  is  not  just  that  he 
should  take  from  another.” 

But  our  duties  are  principally  confused  in  cases  of  friend- 
ship ; for  both  not  to  bestow  on  them  what  you  justly  may,  and 
to  bestow  what  is  not  just,  are  contrary  to  duty.  But  the 
rule  regarding  this  entire  subject  is  short  and  easy.  For 

* Romulus,  when  deified,  was  called  Quirinus. 


132 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  nr. 


those  things  which  seem  useful — ^honors,  riches,  pleasures, 

and  other  things  of  the  same  kind — should  never  be  preferred 
to  friendship.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  for  the  sake  of  a 
friend  a good  man  will  neither  act  against  the  state,  nor 
against  his  oath  and  good  faith — ^not  even  if  he  shall  be 
judge  in  the  case  of  his  friend — ^for  he  lays  aside  the 

character  of  a friend  when  he  puts  on  that  of  a judge.  So 
much  he  will  concede  to  friendship  that  he  had  rather  the 
cause  of  his  friend  were  just,  and  that  he  would  accommo- 
date him  as  to  the  time  of  pleading  his  cause  as  far  as  the 

laws  permit.  But  when  he  must  pronounce  sentence  on  his 
oath,  he  will  remember  that  he  has  called  the  divinity  as 
witness — that  is,  as  I conceive,  his  own  conscience,  than 
which  the  deity  himself  has  given  nothing  more  divine  to 
man.  Therefore  we  have  received  from  our  ancestors  a 
noble  custom,  if  we  would  retain  it,  of  entreating  the  judge 
for  what  he  can  do  with  safe  conscience.  This  entreaty  has 
reference  to  those  things  which,  as  I mentioned  a little  while 
ago,  could  be  granted  with  pro23riety  by  a judge  to  his  friend. 
For  if  all  things  were  to  be  done  which  friends  would  wish, 
such  intimacies  can  not  be  considered  friendships,  but  rather 
conspiracies.  But  I am  speaking  of  common  friendships; 
for  there  could  be  no  such  thing  as  that  among  wise  and 
perfect  men.  They  tell  us  that  Damon  and  Phintias,  the 
Pythagoreans,  felt  such  affection  for  each  other,  that  when 
Dionysius,  the  tyrant,  had  appointed  a day  for  the  exe- 
cution of  one  of  them,  and  he  who  had  been  condemned 
to  death  had  entreated  a few  days  for  himself,  for  the  purpose 
of  commending  his  family  to  the  care  of  his  friends,  the 
other  became  security  to  have  him  forthcoming,  so  that  if  he 
had  not  returned,  it  would  have  been  necessary  for  himself 
to  die  in  his  place.  When  he  returned  upon  the  day,  the 
tyrant  having  admired  their  faith,  entreated  that  they  would 
admit  him  as  a third  to  their  friendship. 

When,  therefore,  that  which  seems  useful  in  friendship  is 
compared  with  that  which  is  virtuous,  let  the  appearance  of 
expediency  be  disregarded,  let  virtue  prevail.  Moreover,  when 
in  friendship,  things  which  are  not  virtuous  shall  be  required  of  us, 
religion  and  good  faith  should  be  preferred  to  friendship.  Thus 
that  distinction  of  duty  which  we  are  seeking  will  be  preserved. 

XL  But  it  is  in  state  affairs  that  men  most  frequently 


CHAP.  XI. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


133 


commit  crimes  under  the  pretext  of  expediency — as  did  our 
countrymen  in  the  demolition  of  Corinth  : the  Athenians  still 
more  harshly,  since  they  decreed  that  the  thumbs  of  the 
netans,  who  were  skillful  in  naval  matters,  should  be  cut  off. 
This  seemed  expedient ; for  ^gina,  on  account  of  its  proxi- 
mity, was  too  formidable  to  the  Piraeus.  But  nothing  which  is 
cruel  can  be  expedient ; for  cruelty  is  most  revolting  to  the 
nature  of  mankind,  which  we  ought  to  follow.  Those,  too, 
do  wrong  who  prohibit  foreigners  to  inhabit  their  cities,  and 
banish  them,  as  Pennus  did  among  our  ancestors,  and  Papius 
did  lately.  For  it  is  proper  not  to  permit  him  to  be  as  a citizen 
who  is  not  a citizen — a law  which  the  wisest  of  consuls, 
Crassus  and  Scaevola,  introduced : but  to  prohibit  foreigners 
from  dwelling  in  a city  is  certainly  inhuman.  Those  are 
noble  actions  in  which  the  appearance  of  public  expediency 
is  treated  with  contempt  in  comparison  with  virtue.  Our  state 
is  full  of  examples,  as  well  frequently  on  other  occasions  as 
especially  in  the  second  Punic  war,  when  she,  having  suffered 
the  disaster  at  Cannae,  exhibited  greater  spirit  than  ever  she  did 
in  her  prosperity — no  indication  of  fear,  no  mention  of  peace. 
So  great  is  the  power  of  virtue,  that  it  throws  the  sem- 
blance of  expediency  into  the  shade.  When  the  Athenians 
could  by  no  means  withstand  the  attack  of  the  Persians,  and 
determined  that,  having  abandoned  their  city,  and  deposited 
their  wives  and  children  at  Troezene,  they  should  embark  in 
their  vessels,  and  with  their  fleet  protect  the  liberties  of 
Greece,  they  stoned  one  Cyrsilus,  who  was  persuading  them  to 
remain  in  the  city,  and  to  receive  Xerxes  : though  he  seemed 
to  pursue  expediency ; but  it  was  unreal,  as  being  opposed 
to  virtue.  Themistocles,  after  the  victory  in  that  war  which 
took  place  with  the  Persians,  said  in  the  assembly,  that  he 
had  a plan  salutary  for  the  state,  but  that  it  was  necessary 
that  it  should  not  be  publicly  known,  tie  demanded  that 
the  people  should  appoint  somebody  with  whom  he  might 
communicate.  Aristides  was  appointed.  To  him  he  disclosed 
that  the  fleet  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  which  was  in  dock 
at  Gytheum,  could  secretly  be  burned;  of  which  act  the 
necessary  consequence  would  be,  that  the  power  of  the 
Lacedaemonians  would  be  broken ; which,  when  Aristides 
had  heard,  he  came  into  the  assembly  amid  great  expecta- 
tions of  the  people,  and  said  that  the  plan  wLich  Themistocles* 


134 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III. 


proposed  was  very  expedient,  but  by  no  means  honorable. 
Therefore,  the  Athenians  were  of  opinion  that  what  was  not 
upright  was  not  even  expedient,  and  on  the  authority  of 
Aristides,  rejected  that  entire  matter  which  they  had  not 
even  heard.  They  acted  better  than  we  who  have  pirates 
free  from  tribute,  and  allies  paying  taxes. 

XII.  Let  it  be  inferred,  then,  that  what  is  base  never  is 
expedient,  not  even  when  you  obtain  what  you  think  to  be 
useful.  For  this  very  thinking  what  is  base  to  be  expedient, 
is  mischievous.  But,  as  I said  before,  cases  often  occur,  when 
profit  seems  to  be  opposed  to  rectitude,  so  that  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  consider  whether  it  is  plainly  opposed,  or  can  be 
reconciled  with  rectitude.  Of  that  sort  are  these  questions. 
If,  for  example,  an  honest  man  has  brought  from  Alexandria 
to  Rhodes  a great  quantity  of  grain  during  the  scarcity  and 
famine  of  the  Rhodians,  and  the  very  high  prices  of  provi- 
sions; if  this  same  man  should  know  that  many  merchants 
had  sailed  from  Alexandria,  and  should  have  seen  their  ves- 
sels on  the  way  laden  with  corn,  and  bound  for  Rhodes, 
should  he  tell  that  to  the  Rhodians,  or  keeping  silence,  should 
he  sell  his  own  corn  at  as  high  a price  as  possible  ? We  are 
supposing  a wise  and  honest  man ; we  are  inquiring  about  the 
deliberation  and  consultation  of  one  who  would  not  conceal  the 
matter  from  the  Rhodians  if  he  thought  it  dishonorable,  but 
is  in  doubt  whether  it  be  dishonorable.  In  cases  of  this 
sort,  one  view  was  habitually  taken  by  Diogenes,  the  Baby- 
lonian, a great  and  approved  Stoic;  and  a difierent  view  by 
Antipater,  his  pupil,  a very  acute  man.  It  seems  right  to 
Anti  pater,  that  every  thing  should  be  disclosed,  so  that  the 
buyer  should  not  be  ignorant  of  any  thing  at  all  that  the  seller 
knew.  To  Diogenes  it  appears  that  the  seller  ought,  just  as 
far  as  is  established  by  the  municipal  law  to  declare  the 
faults,  to  act  in  other  respects  without  fraud ; but  since  he 
is  selling,  to  wish  to  sell  at  as  good  a price  as  possible.  I have 
brought  my  corn — I have  set  it  up  for  sale — I am  selling 
it,  not  at  a higher  rate  than  others,  perhaps,  he  will  even 
say  for  less,  since  the  supply  is  increased ; to  whom  is  there 
injustice  done  ? The  argument  of  Antipater  proceeds  on  the 
other  side.  What  do  you  say  ? When  you  ought  to  consult 
for  the  good  of  mankind,  and  to  benefit  human  society,  and 
were  born  under  this  law,  and  have  these  principles  from 


CHAP.  XIII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


135 


nature,  which  you  ought  to  obey  and  comply  with,  that  your 
interest  should  be  the  common  interest,  and  reciprocally,  the 
common  interest  yours — will  you  conceal  from  men  what  ad- 
vantage and  plenty  is  near  them?  Diogenes  will  answer 
perhaps,  in  this  manner.  It  is  one  thing  to  conceal  from 
them,  another  thing  to  be  silent  on  the  subject : “ I do  not 
conceal  from  you  now,  if  I do  not  tell  you  what  is  the  nature 
of  the  gods,  or  what  is  the  supreme  good ; things,  the  know- 
ledge of  which  would  be  more  beneficial  to  you  than  the  low 
price  of  wheat.  But  is  there  any  necessity  for  me  to  tell  you 
whatever  is  beneficial  to  you  to  know  ?”  Yes,  indeed,”  the 
other  will  say,  “ it  is  necessary,  that  is,  if  you  remember  that 
there  is  a social  tie  established  between  men  by  nature.” 
“ I remember  that,”  he  will  answer,  “ but  is  that  social  tie 
such  that  each  has  nothing  of  his  own  ? for  if  it  be  so,  we 
should  not  even  sell  any  thing,  but  make  a present  of  it.” 

XIII.  You  see,  throughout  all  this  disputation,  it  is  not 
said,  although  this  act  be  base,  yet  since  it  is  profitable 
I will  do  it ; but  on  the  one  side  it  is  said  it  is  profitable 
in  so  much  as  it  is  not  a base  act ; and  on  the  other  side,  be- 
cause it  is  base,  on  this  account  it  should  not  be  done.  An 
honest  man  would  dispose  of  a house  on  account  of  some 
faults  which  he  himself  knows,  but  others  are  ignorant  of;  it 
is  unwholesome,  though  considered  healthy ; it  is  not  known 
that  snakes  make  their  appearance  in  all  the  bed  chambers ; 
it  is  built  of  bad  materials,  ready  to  fall ; but  nobody  knows 
this  except  the  master.  I ask,  if  the  seller  should  not  tell 
these  things  to  the  buyer,  and  should  sell  the  house  for  a 
great  deal  more  than  he  thought  he  could  sell  it  for,  whether 
he  would  have  acted  unjustly  or  dishonestly?  He  surely 
would,  says  Antipater.  For  if  sufiering  a purchaser  to  come 
to  loss,  and  to  incur  the  greatest  damage  by  mistake,  be  not 
that  which  is  forbidden  at  Athens  with  public  execrations, 
namely,  a not  pointing  out  the  road  to  one  going  astray, 
what  else  is  ? It  is  even  more  than  not  showing  the  w^ay ; 
for  it  is  knowingly  leading  another  astray.  Diogenes  argues 
on  the  other  side.  Has  he  forced  you  to  purchase  who 
did  not  even  request  you  to  do  so  ? He  advertised  for 
sale  a house  that  did  not  please  him  ; you  have  purchased 
one  that  pleased  you.  But  if  they  who  advertised  “a  good 
and  well  built  country  house,”  are  not  thought  to  have  prac- 
ticed fraud,  even  though  it  be  neither  good  nor  well  built; 


136 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III, 


much  less  have  they  who  have  not  praised  their  house.  For 
where  there  is  judgment  in  the  buyer,  what  fraud  can  there 
be  in  the  seller  ? But  if  it  be  not  necessary  to  make  good 
all  that  is  said,  do  you  think,  it  necessary  to  make  good  that 
which  is  not  said  ? For  what  is  more  foolish  than  that  the  seller 
should  relate  the  defects  of  that  which  he  sells  ? Or,  what 
so  absurd  as  that,  by  the  command  of  the  owner,  the  auctioneer 
should  thus  proclaim  : “ I am  selling  an  unhealthy  house.” 
In  some  doubtful  cases,  then,  virtue  is  thus  defended  on  the 
one  side  ; on  the  other  side,  it  is  said  on  the  part  of  expediency, 
that  it  not  only  is  virtuous  to  do  that  which  seems  profitable, 
but  even  disgraceful  not  to  do  it.  This  is  that  dissension 
which  seems  often  to  exist  between  the  profitable  and  the 
virtuous.  Which  matters  we  must  decide.  For  we  have 
not  proposed  them  that  we  might  make  a question  of  them, 
but  that  we  might  explain  them.  That  corn  merchant,  then, 
seems  to  me  to  be  bound  not  to  practice  concealment  on 
the  Rhodians,  nor  this  house-seller  on  the  purchasers.  For 
it  is  not  practicing  concealment  if  you  should  be  silent  about 
any  thing ; but  when  for  the  sake  of  your  own  emolument 
you  wish  those,  whose  interest  it  is  to  know  that  which  you 
know,  to  remain  in  ignorance.  How,  as  to  this  sort  of  con- 
cealment, who  does  not  see  what  kind  of  thing  it  is,  and  what 
kind  of  a man  will  practice  it  ? Certainly  not  an  open,  not 
a single-minded,  not  an  ingenuous,  not  a just,  not  a good 
man  ; but  rather  a wily,  close,  artful,  deceitful,  knavish,  crafty, 
double-dealing,  evasive  fellow.^  Is  it  not  inexpedient  to 

1 Oil  referring  to  the  conclusion  of  the  last  chapter,  it  will  be  seen  that 
neither  does  Diogenes  prove,  nor  does  Antipater  admit,  that  by  the  corn- 
merchant’s  silence  any  rule  of  morality  is  infringed.  On  what  ground  and 
for  what  reason  was  it  incumbent  on  him  to  disclose  the  fact  which  acci- 
dentally came  to  his  knowledge,  that  other  cargoes  of  corn  were  at  sea  ? 
none  is  assigned,  but  that  buyers  and  sellers  are  bound  by  the  same  social 
ties.  But  these  do  not,  as  Antipater  observes,  bind  us  to  communicate  to 
every  body  all  we  know.  In  withholding  this  information,  which  was 
wholly  extrinsic  to  his  bargain,  no  confidence  was  violated.  Had  he  dis- 
closed it,  the  price  of  the  commodity  in  which  he  dealt  would  have  been 
materially  reduced.  However  noble-minded  or  liberal  it  might  be  in  him 
to  put  the  buyer  in  possession  of  all  the  intelligence  on  the  subject  within 
his  power,  no  rules  of  justice  were  violated  by  his  withholding  it.  And 
these  are,  as  Adam  Smith  observes  (Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  iv.  7 ), 

the  only  rules  which  are  precise  and  accurate  ; those  of  other  virtues 
are  vague  and  indeterminate.  The  first  may  be  compared  to  the  rules 
of  grammar ; the  others  to  the  rules  which  the  critics  lay  down  for  the 


CHAP.  217,  CICERO’S  OFFICES  137 

pose  ourselves  to  the  imputations  of  so  maDy  vices,  and  even 
more  ? 

XIV.  But  if  they  are  to  be  blamed  who  have  kept  silent, 
what  ought  to  be  thought  of  those  who  have  practiced  false- 
hood in  word  ? Caius  Canius,  a Roman  knight,  not  without 
wit,  and  tolerably  learned,  when  he  had  betaken  himself  to 
Syracuse,  for  the  sake,  as  he  was  himself  accustomed  to  say, 
of  enjoyment,  not  of  business,  gave  out  that  he  wished  to 
purchase  some  pleasure-grounds,  whither  he  could  invite  his 
friends,  and  where  he  could  amuse  himself  without  intruders. 
When  this  had  got  abroad,  one  Pythius,  who  practiced  dis- 
counting at  Syracuse,  told  him  that  he  had  pleasure-grounds, 
not  indeed  for  sale,  but  that  Canius  was  at  liberty  to  use 
them  as  his  own  if  he  desired,  and  at  the  same  time  he  in- 
vited the  gentleman  to  dinner  at  the  pleasure-grounds  on  the 
following  day.  When  he  had  promised  to  go,  then  Pythius, 
who,  as  a discounter,  was  well  liked  among  all  ranks,  called 
some  fishermen  to  him,  and  requested  of  them  that  upon  the 
following  day  they  should  fish  in  front  of  his  grounds,  and 
told  them  what  he  wished  them  to  do.  In  due  time,  Canius 
came  to  dinner — the  entertainment  was  sumptuously  pro- 
vided by  Pythius — a crowd  of  fishing-boats  before  their  eyes. 
Each  fisherman  for  himself  brought  what  he  had  caught ; the 
fish  were  laid  before  the  feet  of  Pythius.  Then  Canius  says, 
“ What  is  this,  pray,  Pythius — so  much  fish — so  many  boats 
And  he  answers,  What ’s  the  wonder  ? Whatever  fish  there 
are  at  Syracuse  are  taken  at  this  place  ; here  is  their  watering- 
place  ; these  men  could  not  do  without  this  villa.”  Canius, 

attainment  of  the  sublime,  which  present  us  rather  with  a general  idea 
of  the  perfection  we  ought  to  aim  at,  than  afford  us  any  certain  and  in- 
fallible directions  for  acquiring  it.”  Puflfendort,  considering  this  very 
question,  after  deciding  that  no  rule  of  justice  was  infringed  by  the  corn- 
merchant,  absolves  him  also  from  any  offense  against  the  laws  of  benev- 
olence and  humanity.  In  this  opinion  his  ingenious  commentator,  Bar- 
beyrac,  fully  agrees,  and  cites  the  opinion  of  a strict  casuist,  La  Placette, 
to  the  same  effect.  Had  the  merchant,  on  his  arrival,  found  the  market 
forestalled  by  the  importation  of  corn  from  some  other  quarter,  or  had  he 
on  the  voyage  lost  ship  or  cargo,  he  could  not  have  expected  from  the 
Rhodians  the  reimbursement  of  his  loss.  Why  then  should  he  not  avail 
himself  of  a favorable  state  of  the  market  ? All  concur,  therefore,  in  de- 
ciding that  he  was  not  bound  in  conscience  to  a disclosure,  “ provided 
merchants  do  not  impose  on  us,  we  may  easily  dispense  them,”  says 
Puffendorfj  “ from  all  acts  of  pure  liberahty.’* 


138 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  m. 


inflamed  with  desire,  presses  Py thins  to  sell.  He  is  unwill- 
ing at  first ; but,  to  be  brief,  he  obtains  his  wish.  The 
man,  eager  and  wealthy,  purchases  the  place  at  as  much 
as  Pythius  demands,  and  purchases  it  furnished.  He  draws 
the  articles  and  completes  the  transaction.  Canius  on  the 
following  day  invites  his  friends.  He  comes  early  himself ; 
he  sees  not  a boat ; he  asks  of  his  next  neighbor,  was  it  any 
holiday  with  the  fishermen,  that  he  saw  none  of  them.  “ None 
that  I know,”  said  he  : but  none  used  to  fish  here,  and  there- 

fore I was  amazed  at  what  happened  yesterday.”  Canius  got 
angry ; yet  what  could  he  do  ? for  my  colleague  and  friend 
Aquillius  had  not  yet  brought  out  the  forms  about  criminal 
devices ; in  which  very  forms,  when  it  was  inquired  of  him, 
“ What  is  a criminal  device  ?”  he  answered,  “ When  one 
thing  is  pretended,  and  another  thing  done.”  Very  clearly, 
indeed,  was  this  laid  down ; as  by  a man  skilled  in  definition. 
Therefore,  both  Pythius,  and  all  those  who  do  one  thing,  while 
feigning  another,  are  perfidious,  base,  knavish.  No  act  of 
theirs,  then,  can  be  useful,  when  it  is  stained  with  so  many  vices. 

XV.  But  if  the  Aquillian  definition  is  true,  pretense 
and  dissimulation  ought  to  be  banished  from  the  whole  of 
life  ; so  that  neither  to  buy  better,  nor  to  sell,  will  a good 
man  feign  or  disguise  any  thing.  And  this  criminal  device 
was  punished  both  by  the  statute  laws  (as  in  the  case  of 
guardianship  by  the  twelve  tables,  in  that  of  the  defrauding 
of  minors,  by  the  Plsetorian  law),  and  by  judicial  decisions 
without  legal  enactment,  in  which  is  added  “ according  to 
good  faith”  (ex  fide  bona).  Moreover,  in  other  judgments, 
the  following  phrases  are  very  excellent : in  the  arbitration  of 
a cause  matrimonial,  the  phrase,  “ melius  ^quius  ;”  in  a case 
of  trust,  the  phrase,  “ ut  inter  bonds  bene  agier.”  ‘ What 
then  ? Can  there  be  any  room  for  fraud  either  in  that 

1 The  Praetor  had  an  equitable  jurisdiction.  It  is  to  his  decrees  the 
text  refers ; and  as  the  principal  subjects  that  came  before  him  were  hona 
fide  contracts,  not  binding  in  strict  law,  but  in  which  he  decided  accord- 
ing to  conscience,  and  used  in  these  decrees  a set  form  of  words,  “ex 
fide  bona  agatur,”  the  decisions  on  this  and  all  other  cases  in  equity  came 
to  be  called  judkia  honce  fidei.  Two  other  set  forms  are  mentioned  in 
the  text ; one  used  in  the  case  of  divorce  (as  well  as  in  all  other  cases  of 
arbitration),  where  arbitrators,  decreeing  the  restoration  of  the  wife’s 
property,  employed  the  form  quantum  .®quius  melius.  The  other 
formula  was  usual  in  cases  of  trust ; it  ran  thus : inter  bonos  bene 
AGIER  ET  SINE  FRAUDATIONE. 


CHAP.  XT, 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


139 


transaction  which  is  decreed  to  be  adjusted  ‘‘  better  and 
fairer  Or  can  any  thing  be  done  deceitfully  or  knavishly, 
when  it  is  pronounced  “ that  among  honest  men  there  must 
be  fair  dealing  ?”  But  criminal  device,  as  Aquillius  says, 
is  comprised  in  pretense ; therefore  all  deceit  should  be 
excluded  from  contracts.  The  seller  should  not  bring 
a person  to  bid  over  the  value,  nor  the  buyer  one  to 
bid  under  him.  Each  of  the  two,  if  he  should  come 

to  name  a price,  should  not  name  a price  more  than  once. 
Quintus  Scaevola,  indeed,  the  son  of  Publius,  when  he  re- 
quired that  a price  of  a property  of  which  he  was  about  to 
become  a purchaser  should  be  named  to  him  once  for  all, 
and  the  seller  had  done  so,  said  that  he  valued  it  at  more, 
and  gave  in  addition  a hundred  sestertia.  There  is  no 
person  who  can  deny  that  this  was  the  act  of  an  honest 
man  ; they  deny  that  it  was  of  a prudent  man  ; just  as  it 
would  be  if  a man  should  sell  a thing  for  less  than  he  could 
get.  This,  then,  is  the  mischief — that  persons  think  some 
men  honest,  others  prudent;  through  which  mistake  En- 
nius remarks,  “ that  the  wise  man  is  wise  in  vain,  who 
can  not  be  of  use  to  himself.”  That  indeed  is  true,  if  it  be 
only  agreed  on  between  me  and  Ennius  what  “ to  be  of  use” 
means.  I see,  indeed,  Hecaton  of  Rhodes,  the  scholar  of 
Panaetius,  saying,  in  those  books  about  duties  which  he 
wrote  to  Quintus  Tubero,  “that  it  was  the  duty  of  a wise 
man,  that  doing  nothing  contrary  to  manners,  laws,  and 
institutions,  he  should  have  regard  to  improving  his  prop- 
erty ; for  we  do  not  wish  to  be  rich  for  ourselves  alone, 
but  for  our  children,  kindred,  friends,  and  especially  for  our 
country ; for  the  means  and  affluence  of  each  individually 
constitute  the  riches  of  the  state.”  To  this  philosopher  the 
conduct  of  Scaevola,  about  which  I spoke  a little  while  ago, 
can  by  no  means  be  pleasing ; for  to  him  who  disavows 
that  he  would  do  for  the  sake  of  his  own  gain  only  just  so 
much  as  is  not  illegal,  neither  great  pains  nor  thanks  are 
due.  But  if  pretense  and  dissimulation  are  criminal  de- 
vices, there  are  few  affairs  in  which  that  criminal  device 
may  not  be  employed;  or  if  a good  man  is  he  who  serves 
whom  he  can,  injures  nobody — certainly  we  do  not  easily 
find  such  a good  man ; to  do  wrong,  then,  is  never  profitable, 
because  it  is  always  base ; and  to  be  a good  man  is  always 
profitable,  because  it  is  always  virtuous^ 


140 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  in. 


XVI.  And  with  respect  to  the  law  of  landed  estates,  it  is 
ordained  among  us  by  the  civil  law,  that  by  selling  them, 
the  faults  should  be  declared  which  were  known  to  the 
seller.  For  though  by  the  twelve  tables  it  was  sufficient  to 
be  answerable  for  those  defects  which  were  expressly  men- 
tioned, which  he  who  denied  suffered  a penalty  of  double  the 
value,  yet  a penalty  for  silence  also  was  established  by  the 
lawyers.  For  they  determined  that,  if  the  seller  knew  what- 
ever defect  there  was  in  an  estate,  he  ought  to  make  it  good, 
unless  it  was  expressly  mentioned.  Thus,  when  the  augurs 
were  about  to  officiate  on  the  augurs’  hi  11,^  and  had  com- 
manded Titus  Claudius  Centumalus,  who  had  a house  on  the 
Cselian  Mount,  to  take  down  those  parts  of  it,  the  height  of 
which  obstructed  their  auspices,  Claudius  set  up  the  house 
for  sale,  and  he  sold  it;  Publius  Calpurnius  Lanarius  pur- 
chased it.  That  same  notice  was  given  to  him  by  the 

augurs ; therefore,  when  Calpurnius  had  pulled  it  down,  and 
had  discovered  that  Claudius  had  advertised  the  house  after 
he  had  been  commanded  by  the  augurs  to  pull  it  down,  he 
brought  him  before  an  arbitrator,  to  decide  “ what  he  ought 
to  give  or  do  for  him  in  good  faith.”  Marcus  Cato  pro- 
nounced the  sentence  ; the  father  of  this  our  Cato  (for  as 
other  men  are  to  be  named  from  their  father,  so  he  who 
begot  that  luminary  ought  to  be  named  from  his  son).  This 
judge,  then,  decreed  as  follows  : — “ Since  in  selling  he  had 
known  that  matter,  and  had  not  mentioned  it,  that  he 
ought  to  make  good  the  loss  to  the  purchaser.”  There- 
fore he  established  this  principle,  that  it  concerned  good 
faith  that  a defect  which  the  seller  was  aware  of  should  be 
made  known  to  the  purchaser ; but  if  he  decided  with  justice, 
then  that  corn-merchant  did  not  with  justice  keep  silent, 
nor  that  seller  of  the  unhealthy  house.^  However,  all  mental 

1 The  Capitoline. 

2 A commentator  on  this  passage  very  justly  observes,  that  “ the  anal- 
ogy is  by  no  means  perfect  between  the  cases.  Claudius  withheld  from 
the  buyer  information  respecting  that  very  house,  by  which  its  utility  and 
its  value  were  materially  reduced.  In  fact  the  house  which  he  sold  was 
not  the  identical  house,  as  he  well  knew,  which  in  a short  period  would 
be  standing  on  that  spot ; it  must  be  replaced  by  a house  less  lofty,  and 
which  would  cost  to  the  buyer  no  small  sum  to  unroof,  reduce,  and  alter. 
This  information  related,  therefore,  to  the  house  itself  which  he  sold  and 
warranted.  Not  so  with  regard  to  the  corn  sold  at  Rhodes  ; the  quality 
of  the  corn  was  not  there  in  question ; the  intelligence  which  the  mer- 


CHAP.  XVII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


141 


reservations  of  this  kind  can  not  be  comprehended  in  the  civil 
law ; hut  those  which  can  are  carefully  checked.  Marcus 
Marius  Gratidianus,  our  kinsman,  sold  to  Caius  Sergius 
Grata  that  house  which  he  had  himself  purchased  from  the 
same  man  a few  years  before.  This  house  was  subject  to  a 
service ; ^ but  Marius  had  not  mentioned  this  in  the  con- 
ditions of  conveyance.  The  matter  was  brought  to  trial. 
Crassus  was  counsel  for  Grata ; Antonius  defended  Gratidi- 
anus : Crassus  relied  on  the  law — whatever  defect  a seller 
who  knows  it  had  not  disclosed,  it  is  fit  that  he  should 
make  good : Antonius  relied  on  the  equity — ^that  since 
that  defect  could  not  have  been  unknown  to  Sergius,  who 
had  formerly  sold  the  house,  there  was  no  necessity  that  it 
should  be  disclosed ; neither  could  he  be  deceived,  who  was 
aware  under  what  liability  that  which  he  had  bought  was  placed. 
To  what  purpose  these  accounts  ? That  you  may  understand 
this,  that  cunning  men  were  not  approved  by  our  ancestors. 

XVII.  But  the  laws  abolish  frauds  in  one  way,  philoso- 
phers in  another  : the  laws,  as  far  as  they  can  lay  hold  of  them 
by  their  arm ; ^ philosophers,  as  far  as  they  can  check  them 
by  reason  and  wisdom.  Reason,  then,  requires  that  nothing 
be  done  insidiously,  nothing  dissemblingly,  nothing  falsely. 
Is  it  not  then  an  ensnaring  to  lay  a net,  even  though  you 
should  not  beat  up  the  game,  nor  hunt  them  to  it  ? For  the 
wild  creatures  often  fall  into  it  of  themselves,  no  one  pur- 
suing them.  So  is  it  fit  you  should  set  up  your  house  for 
sale,  put  up  a bill  like  a net,  sell  the  house  because  of  its 
defects,  and  that  somebody  should  rush  into  it  unwittingly  ? 

chant  withheld  did  not  relate  to  that  corn,  but  was  completely  extrinsic. 
Though  he  might  be  bound  to  satisfy  the  buyer’s  inquiry  by  giving  a true 
account  of  that  corn,  he  was  not  bound  to  furnish,  unasked,  an  account 
of  all  other  corn.  Had  he  stated  his  corn  to  be  merchantable,  and  of  a 
given  weight,  and  the  buyer  had  found  the  corn  on  delivery  to  be  of  less 
weight  and  full  of  weevils,  then  the  comparison  would  have  been  more 
just  with  a house,  which,  as  the  proprietor  knew,  must  be  reduced  in 
height,  and  which  he  sold,  concealing  that  important  circumstance.” 

^ A property  was  said  in  law,  “ servire  alicui,”  when  some  third  per- 
son had  a right  of  way,  or  some  other  such  right  over  it. 

^ The  duty  of  the  laws  is  to  punish  fraud  in  such  overt  cases  as  it  can 
lay  hold  of.  The  duty  of  philosophy  is  to  expose  by  argument  tlie  turpi- 
tude of  fraud,  even  in  those  cases  which,  from  their  subtilty,  or  from  the 
corruptness  of  morals,  escape  the  hand  of  the  law,  since  “ reticentiae  jure 
civili  omnes  comprehendi  non  possunt,” 


142 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  IlL 


Though  I see  that  this,  on  account  of  the  corruption  of  man- 
ners, is  neither  esteemed  base  in  morals,  nor  forbidden  either 
by  statutable  enactments  or  by  civil  law ; yet  it  is  forbidden 
by  the  law  of  nature.  For  there  is  the  social  tie  between  man 
and  man  which  is  of  the  widest  extent,  which,  though  I have 
often  mentioned  it,  yet  needs  to  be  mentioned  oftener. 
There  is  a closer  tie  between  those  who  are  of  the  same  nation ; 
a closer  still  between  those  who  are  of  the  same  state.  Our 
ancestors,  therefore,  were  of  opinion  that  the  law  of  nations 
was  one  thing,  the  municipal  law  a different  thing.  What- 
ever is  civil  law,  the  same  is  not,  for  that  reason,  necessarily 
the  law  of  nations ; but  whatever  is  the  law  of  nations,  the 
same  ought  to  be  civil  law.  But  we  possess  no  solid  and 
express  image  of  true  right  and  its  sister  justice : we  use 
merely  their  shade  and  faint  resemblances.  Would  that  we 
followed  even  these,  for  they  are  taken  from  the  best  pat- 
terns of  nature  and  truth ! For  how  admirable  are  those 
words,  “ that  I be  not  ensnared  and  defrauded  on  account  of 
you  and  your  honesty.”  What  golden  words  those — “that 
among  honest  men  there  be  fair  dealing,  and  without  fraud.” 
But  who  are  honest  men,  and  what  is  fair  dealing,  is  the  great 
question.  Quintus  Scsevola,  indeed,  the  high  priest,  used  to 
say  that  there  was  the  greatest  weight  in  all  those  decisions 
in  which  was  added  the  form  “ of  good  faith ;”  and  he 
thought  the  jurisdiction  of  good  faith  extended  very  widely, 
and  that  it  was  concerned  in  wardships,  societies,  trusts, 
commissions,  buyings,  sellings,  hirings,  lettings,  in  which 
the  intercourse  of  life  is  comprised ; that  in  these  it  is  the 
part  of  a great  judge  to  determine  (especially  since  there 
were  contrary  decisions  in  most  cases)  what  each  ought  to 
be  accountable  for  to  each.  Wlierefore  craftiness  ought  to 
be  put  away,  and  that  knavery  which  would  fain  seem, 
indeed,  to  be  prudence,  but  which  is  far  from  it,  and  differs 
most  widely.^  For  prudence  consists  in  the  distinguishing  of 

^ Addison  carries  out  this  distinction  far  more  elaborately.  “ At  tlio 
same  time,”  he  says,  “ that  I think  discretion  the  most  useful  talent  a man 
can  be  master  of,  I look  upon  cunning  to  be  the  accomplishment  of  little, 
mean,  ungenerous  minds.  Discretion  points  out  the  noblest  ends  to  us, 
and  pursues  the  most  proper  and  laudable  methods  of  attaining  them.  Cun- 
ning has  only  private,  selfish  aims,  and  sticks  at  nothing  which  may  mako 
them  succeed.  Discretion  has  large  and  extended  views,  and,  like  a 
well-formed  eye,  commands  a whole  horizon.  Cunning  is  a kind  of  short- 


CHAP.  XVII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


143 


good  and  evil — knavery,  if  all  tilings  that  are  vicious  are 
evil,  prefers  evil  to  good. 

Nor  is  it,  indeed,  in  landed  property  alone  that  the  civil 
law  deduced  from  nature  punishes  knavery  and  fraud,  but 
also  in  the  sale  of  slaves,  all  fraud  of  the  seller  is  prevented. 
For  he  who  ought  to  bo  aware  of  the  health,  the  running 
away,  the  thefts  of  slaves,  is  accountable  by  the  edict  of 
the  JEdiles ; but  the  case  of  heirs  is  different.^  From 
which  it  will  be  understood,  since  nature  is  the  fountain  of 
light,  that  it  is  according  to  nature  that  no  one  should  act 
in  such  a manner,  that  be  should  prey  on  the  ignorance  of 
another.^  Nor  can  there  be  found  in  life  any  greater  curse 

sightedness  that  discovers  the  minutest  objects  which  aro  near  at  hand, 
but  is  not  able  to  discern  things  at  a distance.  Discretion,  the  more  it  is 
discovered,  gives  a greater  authority  to  the  person  who  possesses  it. 
Cunning,  when  it  is  once  detected,  loses  its  force,  and  makes  a man  in- 
capable of  bringing  about  even  those  events  which  he  might  have  done 
had  he  passed  only  for  a plain  man.  Discretion  is  the  perfection  of  reason, 
and  a guide  to  us  in  all  the  duties  of  life ; cunning  is  a kind  of  in- 
stinct that  only  looks  out  after  our  immediate  interest  and  welfare.  Dis- 
cretion is  only  found  in  men  of  strong  sense  and  good  understanding ; 
cunning  is  often  to  be  met  with  in  brutes  themselves,  and  in  persons  who 
are  but  the  fewest  removes  from  them.  In  short,  cunning  is  only  the 
mimic  of  discretion,  and  may  pass  upon  mean  men  in  the  same  manner 
as  vivacity  is  often  mistaken  for  wit,  and  gravity  for  wisdom.” — Spec- 
tator, No.  225. 

^ Because  an  heir,  having  only  just  come  into  possession  of  the  proper- 
ty, consisting  of  slaves,  might  fairly  be  considered  ignorant  of  their  evil 
qualities. 

2 We  have  here  a singular  proof  of  the  facility  with  which  men,  even 
when  analyzing  the  nicest  moral  obligations,  may  be  insensible  to  the 
grossest  violations  of  moral  fitness  involved  in  the  social  institutions  amid 
which  they  have  been  educated.  In  connection  with  this  nice  casuistry 
touching  the  sale  of  a slave,  it  is  curious  to  peruse  the  following  descrip- 
tion of  the  state  of  things  which  existed  at  the  very  time  when  Cicero 
penned  his  treatise : 

“ The  custom  of  exposing  old,  useless,  or  sick  slaves  in  an  island  of 
the  Tyber,  there  to  starve,  seems  to  have  been  pretty  common  in  Rome ; 
and  whoever  recovered,  after  having  been  so  exposed,  had  his  liberty 
given  him  by  an  edict  of  the  Emperor  Claudius ; in  which  it  was  likewise 
forbidden  to  kill  any  slave  merely  for  old  age  or  sickness.  But  suppos- 
ing that  this  edict  was  strictly  obeyed,  would  it  better  the  domestic 
treatment  of  slaves,  or  render  their  lives  much  more  comfortable  ? Wo 
may  imagine  what  others  would  practice,  when  it  was  the  professed 
maxim  of  the  elder  Cato  to  sell  his  superannuated  slaves  for  any  price, 
rather  than  maintain  what  he  esteemed  a useless  burden. 

“ The  ergastula,  or  dungeons  where  slaves  in  chains  v/ere  forced  to 


144 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  inr. 


than  the  pretense  of  wisdom  in  knavery  ; from  which  those  in- 
numerable cases  proceed,  where  the  useful  seems  to  he  opposed 
to  the  virtuous.  For  how  few  will  be  found  who,  w^hen  prom- 
ised perfect  secrecy  and  impunity,  can  abstain  from  injustice  ? 

XVIII.  Let  us  test  the  principle,  if  you  please,  in  those  ex- 
amples in  which,  indeed,  the  mass  of  mankind  do  not  think  per- 
haps that  there  is  any  crime.  For  it  is  not  necessary  in  this 
place  to  treat  of  assassins,  poisoners,  will-forgers,  robbers, 
embezzlers,  who  are  to  be  kept  down,  not  by  means  of  words 
and  the  disputation  of  philosophers,  but  by  chains  and  a 
dungeon.  But  let  us  consider  these  acts,  which  they  who 
are  esteemed  honest  men  commit.  Some  persons  brought 
from  Greece  to  Kome  a forged  will  of  Lucius  Minucius 
Basilus,  a rich  man.  That  they  might  the  more  easily  obtain 
their  object,  they  put  down  as  legatees  along  with  themselves, 
Marcus  Crassus  and  Quintus  Hortensius,  the  most  powerful 
men  of  that  day ; who,  though  they  suspected  that  it  was  a 
forgery,  but  were  conscious  of  no  crime  in  themselves,  did 
work,  were  very  common  all  over  Italy.  Columella  advises  that  they  be 
alwaj^s  built  under  ground,  and  recommends  it  as  the  duty  of  a careful 
overseer  to  call  over  every  day  the  names  of  the  slaves,  like  the  muster- 
ing of  a regiment  or  ship’s  company,  in  order  to  know  presently  when 
any  of  them  had  deserted ; a proof  of  the  frequency  of  these  ergastula 
and  of  the  great  number  of  slaves  usually  confined  in  them. 

“ A chained  slave  for  a porter  was  usual  in  Rome,  as  appears  from  Ovid 
and  other  authors.  Had  not  these  people  shaken  off  all  sense  of  com- 
passion toward  that  unhappy  part  of  their  species,  would  they  have 
presented  their  friends,  at  the  first  entrance,  with  such  an  image  of  the 
severity  of  the  master  and  misery  of  the  slave  ? Nothing  so  common  in 
all  trials,  even  of  civil  causes,  as  to  call  for  the  evidence  of  slaves;  which 
was  always  extorted  by  the  most  exquisite  torment.  Demosthenes  says 
that  where  it  was  possible  to  produce,  for  the  same  fact,  either  freemen 
or  slaves,  as  witnesses,  the  judges  always  preferred  the  torturing  of  slaves 
as  a more  certain  evidence. 

“ Seneca  draws  a picture  of  that  disorderly  luxury  which  changes  day 
into  night,  and  night  into  day,  and  inverts  every  stated  hour  of  every 
office  in  life.  Among  other  circumstances,  such  as  displacing  the  meals 
and  times  of  bathing,  he  mentions,  that  regularly,  about  the  third  hour 
of  the  night,  the  neighbors  of  one  who  indulges  this  false  refinement, 
hear  the  noise  of  whips  and  lashes ; and,  upon  inquiry,  find  that  he  is 
then  taking  an  account  of  the  conduct  of  his  servants,  and  giving  them 
due  correction  and  discipline. 

This  is  not  remarked  as  an  instance  of  cruelty,  but  only  of  disorder, 
vdiicli  even  in  actions  the  most  usual  and  methodical  changes  the  fixed 
hours  that  an  established  custom  had  assigned  for  them.” — Hume’s  Es- 
Part  ii.  Essay  11. 


CHAP.  XIX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


145 


not  reject  the  paltry  gift  of  other  men’s  villainy.  What 
then  ? Was  this  enough,  that  they  should  not  he  thought  to 
have  been  culpable  ? To  me,  indeed,  it  seems  otherwise ; 
though  I loved  one  of  them  when  living,  and  do  not  hate  the 
other,  now  that  he  is  dead.  But  when  Basilus  had  willed 
that  Marcus  Satrius,  his  sister’s  son,  should  bear  his  name, 
and  had  made  him  his  heir  (I  am  speaking  of  him  who  was 
patron  of  the  Picene  and  Sabine  districts ; oh ! foul  stigma 
upon  those  times  !^)  was  it  fair  that  those  noble  citizens 
should  have  the  property,  and  that  nothing  but  the  name 
should  come  down  to  Satrius  ? For  if  he  who  does  not  keep  off 
an  injury,  nor  repel  it  if  he  can  from  another,  acts  unjustly,  as 
1 asserted  in  the  first  book,  what  is  to  be  thought  of  him  who 
not  only  does  not  repel,  but  even  assists  in  the  injury?  To 
me,  indeed,  even  true  legacies  do  not  seem  honorable,  if 
they  are  acquired  by  deceitful  fawning — not  by  the  reality, 
but  by  the  semblance  of  kind  offices.  But  in  such  matters 
the  profitable  is  sometimes  accustomed  to  be  thought  one 
thing,  and  the  honest  another  thing.  Falsely ; for  the  rule 
about  profit  is  the  same  as  that  which  obtains  respecting 
honesty.  To  him  who  will  not  thoroughly  perceive  this, 
no  fraud,  no  villainy  will  be  wanting ; for,  considering  thus, 
“ that,  indeed,  is  honest,  but  this  is  expedient,”  he  will  dare 
erroneously  to  separate  things  united  by  nature — which  is 
the  fountain  of  all  frauds,  malpractices,  and  crimes. 

XIX.  If  a good  m.an,  then,  should  have  this  power,  that 
by  snapping  his  fingers  his  name  could  creep  by  stealth  into 
the  wills  of  the  wealthy,  he  would  not  use  this  power,  not 
even  if  he  had  it  for  certain  that  no  one  at  all  would  ever 
suspect  it.  But  should  you  give  this  power  to  Marcus 
Orassus,  that  by  the  snapping  of  his  fingers  he  could  be  in- 
scribed heir,  when  he  really  was  not  heir;  believe  me,  he 
would  have  danced  in  the  forum.  But  the  just  man,  and  he 
whom  we  deem  a good  man,  would  take  nothing  from  any 
man  in  order  to  transfer  it  wrongfully  to  himself.  Let  him 
who  is  surprised  at  this  confess  that  he  is  ignorant  of  what 

1 Marcus  Satrius,  having  taken  his  uncle’s  name,  Lucius  Minucius 
Basilus,  was  chosen  as  patron  by  those  districts — ^he  was  a partisan  of 
Caesar  in  the  civil  war.  In  the  eyes  of  Cicero  it  was,  of  course,  a foul 
stain  upon  the  times  that  a friend  of  Caesar  should  be  chosen  as  patron, 
especially  since,  as  ho  insinuates  in  the  2d  Phillippic,  it  was  through 
fear,  not  love,  he  was  selected  for  that  honor. 

hf 


146 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  IIL 


constitutes  a good  man.  But  if  any  one  would  be  willing  to 
develop  the  idea  involved  in  bis  own  mind/  be  would  at 
once  convince  bimself  that  a good  man  is  be  wbo  serves 
whom  be  can,  and  injures  none  except  when  provoked  by 
injury.  Wbat  then?  Does  be  burt  none,  wbo,  as  if  by 
some  enchantment,  accomplishes  the  exclusion  of  the  true 
heirs,  and  the  substitution  of  bimself  in  their  place  ? Should 
be  not  do,  then,  somebody  will  say,  what  is  useful,  wbat  is 
expedient  ? Yes,  but  be  should  understand  that  nothing  is 
either  expedient  or  useful  which  is  unjust.  He  who  has 
not  learned  this,  can  not  be  a good  man. 

When  a boy,  I learned  from  my  father  that  Fimbria,  the 
consular,^  was  judge  in  the  case  of  Marcus  Lutatius  Pinthia, 
Eoman  knight,  a truly  honest  man,  when  he  had  given 
security,®  {which  he  was  to  forfeit)  “ unless  he  was  a 
good  man;”  and  that  Fimbria  thereupon  told  him  that  he 
never  would  decide  that  matter,  lest  he  should  either  de- 
prive a worthy  man  of  his  character,  if  he  decided  against 
him,  or  should  be  seen  to  have  established  that  any  one 
was  a good  man,  when  this  matter  was  comprised  in  in- 
numerable duties  and  praiseworthy  actions.  To  this  good 
man,  then,  whom  even  Fimbria,  not  Socrates  alone  had 

1 The  commentator,  from  whom  I have  already  quoted,  gives  the  fol- 
lowing explanation  of  this  passage.  From  the  Platonic  school  Cicero 
seems  to  have  imbibed  a persuasion,  not  merely  that  ideas  are  innate,  but 
that  they  were  acquired  during  a pre-existent  state  of  the  mind  or  soul. 
“Habet  primum  (se  animus  hominis)  memoriam  et  earn  infinitam,  rerum 
innumerabilium  quam  quidem  Plato  recordationem  esse  vult  superioris 
vitm.  Ex  quo  effici  vult  Socrates,  ut  discere  nihil  aliud  sit  quam  recor- 
dari.  Nec  vero  fieri  ullo  modo  posse  ut  a pueris  tot  rerum  atque  tanta- 
rum  insitas,  et  quasi  consignatas  in  animis,  notiones,  quas  evvoiag  vocant, 
haberemus,  nisi  animus,  antequam  in  corpus  intrasset,  in  rerum  cognitione 
viquisset.”  Tull.  Q.  I.  24.  He  states  also,  Tull.  Q.  lY.  c.  24.,  “ Notionem 
quam  habemus  omnes  de  fortitudine,  tactam  et  involutam.”  In  the 
present  passage  he  appears  to  speak  in  the  same  tone,  of  developing  the 
notion  we  have,  though  indistinctly,  in  our  minds  of  perfection  of  moral 
character. 

2 So  called  to  distinguish  him  from  Caius  Fimbria,  who  having  by  his 
intrigues  occasioned  the  death  of  Lucius  Flaccus,  the  proconsul  of  Asia 
(eighty-five  years  B.C.),  was  subsequently  conquered  by  Sylla,  and  termin- 
ated his  career  by  suicide. 

3 The  “sponsio”  was  a sum  deposited  in  court,  or  promised  with  the 
usual  formula — ni  veram  causam  haberet.  If  the  party  who  thus  gave 
security  was  defeated,  the  money  was  forfeited  to  the  treasury. 


CHAP.  IX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


147 


known,  any  tiling  wliicli  is  not  morally  right  can  by  no 
means  seem  to  be  expedient.  Such  a man,  then,  not  ofily 
will  not  venture  to  do,  but  not  even  to  think,  what  he  would 
not  venture  openly  to  proclaim.  Is  it  not  disgraceful  that 
philosophers  should  hesitate  about  this,  which  not  even 
rustics  doubt — from  whom  is  derived  this  proverb,  which  has 
now  become  trite  through  antiquity ; for  when  they  commend 
the  integrity  and  worthiness  of  any  person,  they  say  “he  is 
one  with  whom  you  might  play  odd  and  even  in  the  dark.”^ 
What  meaning  has  this  proverb  but  this,  that  nothing  is  ex- 
pedient which  is  not  morally  right,  even  though  you  could 
obtain  it  without  any  body  proving  you  guilty.  Do  you  not 
see  that,  according  to  that  proverb,  no  excuse  can  be  ofiered 
either  to  the  aforesaid  Gyges,  nor  to  this  man  whom  I have 
just  now  supposed  able  to  sweep  to  himself  the  inheritances 
of  all  by  a snap  of  the  fingers  ? For  as,  how  much  soever 
that  which  is  base  may  be  concealed,  yet  it  can  by  no  means 
become  morally  right  (honestum),  so  it  can  not  be  made  out 
that  whatever  is  morally  wrong  can  be  expedient,  since 
nature  is  adverse  and  repugnant. 

XX.  But  when  the  prizes  are  very  great,  there  is  a tempta^ 
tion  to  do  wrong.  When  Caius  Marius  was  far  from  the  hope 
of  the  consulship,  and  was  now  in  the  seventh  year  of  his 
torpor,  after  obtaining  the  prsetorship,  and  did  not  seem  likely 
ever  to  stand  for  the  consulship,  he  accused  Quintus  Metellus, 
a very  eminent  man  and  citizen,  whose  lieutenant  he  was,  be- 
fore the  Eoman  people  of  a charge  that  he  was  protracting  the 
war,  when  he  had  been  sent  to  Eome  by  him — his  own  com- 
mander ; — stating  that  if  they  would  make  himself  consul,  that 
he  would  in  a short  time  deliver  Jugurtha,  either  alive  or  dead, 
into  the  power  of  the  Roman  people.  Upon  this  he  was  indeed 
made  consul,  but  he  deviated  from  good  faith  and  justice,  since, 
by  a false  charge,  he  brought  obloquy  upon  a most  excellent 
and  respectable  citizen,  whose  lieutenant  he  was,  and  by  whom 
he  had  been  sent.  Even  my  relative  Gratidianus  did  not 
discharge  the  duty  of  a good  man  at  the  time  when  he  was 

1 This  play,  retained  among  modern  Italians  under  the  name  of  La 
Mora,  is  thus  played : — A and  B are  the  players ; A suddenly  raises,  we 
will  suppose,  three  fingers,  and  B two ; A at  a guess,  cries,  six ; B,  five. 
B,  haying  named  the  number,  wins.  Parties,  to  play  it  in  the  dark,  must 
have  reliance  on  each  other’s  word ; hence  the  proverb. 


148 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III 


praetor,  and  the  tribunes  of  the  people  had  called  in  the 
college  of  the  praetors,  in  order  that  the  matter  of  the  coinage 
might  be  settled  by  a joint  resolution.  For  at  that  period 
the  coinage  was  in  a state  of  uncertainty,  so  that  no  man 

could  know  how  much  he  was  worth.  They  drew  up  in 

common  an  edict,  with  a fine  and  conviction  annexed,  and 

agreed  that  they  should  all  go  up  together  to  the  rostra,  in 

the  afternoon.  And  while  the  rest  of  them,  indeed,  went  off 
each  a different  way,  Marius,  from  the  judgment  seats,  went 
straight  to  the  rostra,  and  singly  published  that  which  had 
been  arranged  in  common.  And  this  jDroceeding,  if  you 
inquire  into  the  result,  brought  him  great  honor.  In  every 
street  statues  of  him  were  erected,  and  at  these  incense  and 
tapers  were  burned.  What  need  of  many  words  ? No  man  ever 
became  a greater  favorite  with  the  multitude.  These  are  the 
things  which  sometimes  perplex  our  deliberations,  when  that 
in  which  equity  is  violated  seems  not  a very  great  crime,  but 
that  which  is  procured  by  it  appears  a very  great  advan- 
tage. Thus  to  Marius  it  seemed  not  a very  base  act  to  snatch 
away  the  popular  favor  from  his  colleagues  and  the  tribunes 
of  the  people,  but  it  appeared  a very  expedient  thing  by 
means  of  that  act  to  become  consul,  which  at  that  time  he 
had  proposed  to  himself.  But  there  is  for  all,  the  one  rule 
which  I wish  to  be  thoroughly  known  to  you ; either  let  not 
that  which  seems  expedient  be  base,  or  if  it  be  base  let  it  not 
seem  expedient.  What  then  ? Can  we  judge  either  the 
former  Marius  or  the  latter,^  a good  man  ? Unfold  and 
examine  your  understanding,  that  you  may  see  what  in  it  is 
the  idea,  form,  and  notion  of  a good  man.  Does  it  then  fall 
under  the  notion  of  a good  man  to  lie  for  the  sake  of  his 
own  advantage,  to  make  false  charges,  to  overreach,  to 
deceive  ? Nothing,  indeed,  less  so.  Is  there,  then,  any  thing 
of  such  value,  or  any  advantage  so  desirable,  that  for  it  you 
would  forfeit  the  splendor  and  name  of  a good  man  ? What 
is  there  which  that  expediency,  as  it  is  called,  can  bring,  so 
valuable  as  that  which  it  takes  away,  if  it  deprive  you  of  the 
name  of  a good  man,  if  it  rob  you  of  your  integrity  and 
justice  ? Now,  what  difference  does  it  make,  whether  from 
a man  one  transform  himself  into  a beast,  or  under  the  form 
of  a man,  bear  the  savage  nature  of  a beast  ? 

^ Kamely,  Marcus  Marius  Gratidianus. 


CHAP.  xxr. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


149 


XXI.  Wliat  ? Are  not  they  who  disregard  all  things  up- 
right and  virtuous,  provided  they  can  attain  power,  doing 
the  same  as  he  ^ who  was  willing  to  have  even  for  his  father- 
in-law,  that  man*  by  whose  audacity  he  might  himself  be- 
come as  powerful  ? It  seemed  expedient  to  him  to  become  as 
powerful  as  possible  by  the  unpopularity  of  the  other.  He 
did  not  see  how  unjust  that  was  toward  his  country,  and 
how  base  and  how  useless.  But  the  father-in-law  himself 
always  had  in  his  mouth  the  Greek  verses  from  the  Phoe- 
nissae,®  which  I will  translate  as  well  as  I can — inelegantly, 
perhaps,  yet  so  that  the  meaning  can  be  understood : — “ For 
if  justice  ought  ever  to  be  violated,  it  is  to  be  violated  for  the 
sake  of  ruling ; in  other  cases  cherish  the  love  of  country.” 
Eteocles,  or  rather  Euripides,  deserved  death  for  making 
an  exception  of  that  one  crime,  which  is  the  most  accursed 
of  all.  Why,  then,  do  we  repress  petty  villainies,  or  fraud- 
ulent inheritances,  trades,  and  sales  ? Here  is  a man  for 
you,  who  aspired  to  be  king  of  the  Poman  people,  and 
master  of  all  nations,  and  accomplished  it — if  any  one  says 
this  desire  is  an  honest  one,  he  is  a madman.'^  For  he  ap- 
1 Pompey. 

^ Caesar,  whose  daughter  Julia  was  sought  and  obtained  in  marriage 
by  Pompey,  who  being,  from  his  great  power,  suspected  of  ambitious 
designs  by  the  people,  with  whom  Caesar  was  a favorite,  wished  by  the 
alliance  to  bring  a share  of  the  suspicion  under  which  himself  labored 
upon  his  rival,  and  thus  to  diminish  his  popularity. 

3 'ElTrep  yap  uSiKelv  xp^?>  Tvpavvldoc  Trtpt 
Ka/lAiorov  ddcKetv’  r’  dXXa  J evoepelv 
4 “We  may,  indeed,  agree,  by  a sacrifice  of  truth,  to  call  that  purple 
which  we  see  to  be  yellow,  as  we  may  agree  by  a still  more  profligate 
sacrifice  of  every  noble  feeling,  to  offer  to  tyranny  the  homage  of  our 
adulation ; to  say  to  the  murderer  of  Thrasea  Psetus,  ‘ Thou  hast  done 
well;’  to  the  parricide  who  murdered  Agrippina,  ‘Thou  hast  done  more 
than  well’  As  every  new  victim  falls,  we  may  lift  our  voice  in  still 
louder  flattery.  We  may  fall  at  the  proud  feet,  we  may  beg,  as  a boon, 
the  honor  of  kissing  that  bloody  hand  which  has  been  lifted  against  the 
helpless ; we  may  do  more  ; we  may  bring  the  altar,  and  the  sacrifice, 
and  implore  the  god  not  to  ascend  too  soon  to  heaven.  This  we  may  do, 
for  this  we  have  the  sad  remembrance  that  beings  of  a human  form  and 
soul  have  done.  Put  this  is  all  we  can  do.  We  can  constrain  our 
tongues  to  be  false,  our  features  to  bend  themselves  to  the  semblance  of 
that  passionate  adoration  which  we  wish  to  express ; our  knees  to  fall 
prostrate ; but  our  heart  we  can  not  constrain.  There  virtue  must  still 
have  a voice  which  is  not  to  be  drowned  by  hymns  and  acclamations  ; 
there  the  crimes  which  we  laud  as  virtues,  are  crimes  still;  and  he 


150 


CICERO’S  OEFICES. 


BOOK  m. 


proves  of  the  murder  of  our  laws  and  liberty ; the  foul  and 
abominable  oppression  of  these  he  thinks  glorious.  But  by 
what  reproof,  or  rather  by  what  reproach,  should  I attempt 
to  tear  away  from  so  great  an  error  the  man  who  admits 
that  to  usurp  kingly  power  in  that  state  which  was  free,  and 
which  ought  to  be  so,  is  not  a virtuous  act,  but  is  expedient 
for  him  who  can  accomplish  it  ? For,  immortal  gods  ! can  the 
most  foul  and  horrible  parricide  of  his  country  be  expedient 
for  any  man,  though  he  who  shall  have  brought  upon  himself 
that  guilt  be  named  by  the  oppressed  citizens  a parent  ? 

Expediency,  then,  should  be  guided  by  virtue,  and  in- 
deed so  that  these  two  may  seem  to  differ  from  each  other  in 
name,  but  to  signify  the  same  in  reality.  In  vulgar  opinion 
I know  not  what  advantage  can  be  greater  than  that  of  sov- 
ereign sway,  but,  on  the  contrary,  when  I begin  to  recall  my 
reason  to  the  truth,  I find  nothing  more  disadvantageous  to 
him  who  shall  have  attained  it  unjustly.  Can  torments,  cares, 
daily  and  nightly  fears,  a life  full  of  snares  and  perils,  be  ex- 
pedient for  any  man — “The  enemies  and  traitors  to  sove- 
reignty are  many,  its  friends  few,”  says  Accius.  But  to 
what  sovereignty  ? That  which  was  justly  obtained,  having 
been  transmitted  by  descent  from  Tantalus  and  Pelops  ? Now, 

whom  we  have  made  a god  is  the  most  contemptible  of  mankind ; if  in- 
deed, we  do  not  feel,  perhaps,  that  we  are  ourselves  still  more  contempt- 
ible.”— Brown’s  “ Moral  Philosophy,”  Lecture  Ixxviii. 

1 “Do  we  think  that  God  has  reserved  all  punishment  for  another 
world,  and  that  wickedness  has  no  feelings  but  those  of  triumph  in  the 
years  of  earthly  sway  which  consummate  its  atrocities  ? There  are  hours 
in  which  the  tyrant  is  not  seen,  the  very  remembrance  of  which,  in  the 
hours  in  which  he  is  seen,  darkens  to  his  gloomy  gaze  that  pomp  which 
is  splendor  to  every  eye  but  his  ; and  that  even  on  earth,  avenge  with 
awful  retribution,  the  wrongs  of  the  virtuous.  The  victim  of  his  jealous 
dread,  who,  with  a frame  wasted  by  disease  and  almost  about  to  release 
his  spirit  to  a liberty  that  is  immortal,  is  slumbering  and  dreaming  of 
heaven  on  the  straw  that  scarcely  covers  the  damp  earth  of  his  dungeon 
' — if  he  could  know  at  that  very  hour  what  thoughts  are  present  to  the 
conscience  of  him  who  doomed  him  to  this  sepulcher,  and  who  is  lying 
sleepless  on  his  bed  of  state,  though  for  a moment  the  knowledge  of  the 
vengeance  might  be  gratifying,  would  almost  shrink  the  very  moment 
after  from  the  contemplation  of  honor  so  hopeless,  and  wish  that  the 
vengeance  were  less  severe.  ‘ Think  not,’  says  Cicero,  ‘ that  guilt  requires 
the  burning  torches  of  the  Furies  to  agitate  and  torment  it.  Their  own 
frauds,  their  crimes,  their  remembrances  of  the  past,  their  terrors  of  tho 
future,  those  are  the  domestic  Furies  that  are  ever  present  to  the  mind 
of  the  impious.’  ” — Dr.  Brown’s  “Moral  Philosophy,”  Lecture  Ixiv. 


cnAP.  XXII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


151 


how  many  more  do  you  think  are  enemies  to  that  king,  who 
with  the  military  force  of  the  Roman  people  crushed  that 
very  Roman  people,  and  compelled  a state  that  was  not  only 
free,  but  also  the  ruler  of  the  nations,  to  be  slaves  to  him  ? 
What  stains,  what  stings  of  conscience  do  you  conceive  that 
man  to  have  upon  his  soul  ? Moreover,  could  his  life  be  a 
beneficial  one  to  himself,  when  the  condition  of  that  life  was 
this,  that  he  who  deprived  him  of  it  would  be  held  in  the  high- 
est esteem  and  glory  ? But  if  these  things  be  not  useful,  which 
seem  so  in  the  highest  degree,  because  they  are  full  of  disgrace 
and  turpitude,  we  ought  to  be  quite  convinced  that  there  is 
nothing  expedient  which  is  not  virtuous. 

XXII.  But  this  indeed  was  decided,  as  well  on  other  oc- 
casions frequently,  as  by  Caius  Fabricius,  in  his  second  con- 
sulship, and  by  our  senate  in  the  war  with  Pyrrhus.  For 
when  king  Pyrrhus  had  made  aggressive  war  upon  the 

Roman  people,  and  when  the  contest  was  maintained  for 

empire  with  a generous  and  potent  monarch,  a deserter  from 
him  came  into  the  camp  of  Fabricius,  and  promised  him,  if  he 
would  propose  a reward  for  him,  that  as  he  had  come  secretly, 
so  he  would  return  secretly  into  the  camp  of  Pyrrhus,  and 
dispatch  him  with  poison.  Fabricius  took  care  that  this 
man  should  be  sent  back  in  custody  to  Pyrrhus,  and  this 
conduct  of  his  was  applauded  by  the  senate.  And  yet  if 
we  pursue  the  appearance  and  notion  of  advantage,  one 

deserter  would  have  rid  us  of  that  great  war,  and  of  that 
formidable  adversary ; but  it  would  have  been  a great  dis- 
grace and  scandal,  that  he,  with  whom  the  contest  was  for 
glory,  had  been  conquered,  not  by  valor,  but  by  villainy. 
Whether  was  it  then  more  expedient,  for  Fabricius, 

who  was  such  a person  in  our  state  as  Aristides  was  at 
Athens,  or  for  our  senate,  which  never  separated  expedi- 
ency from  dignity,  to  fight  against  an  enemy  with  arms 
or  with  poison  ? If  empire  is  to  be  sought  for  the  sake 
of  glory,  away  with  guilt  in  which  there  can  not  be  glory ; 
but  if  power  itself  is  to  be  sought  by  any  means  what- 
ever, it  can  not  be  expedient  when  allied  to  infamy.  That 
proposition,  therefore,  of  Lucius  Philippus,  the  son  of  Quintus, 
was  not  expedient  that  those  states,  which,  by  a decree  of 
the  senate,  Lucius  Sylla,  on  receiving  a sum  of  money,  had 
made  free,  should  again  be  subject  to  tribute,  and  that  wo 


152 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III. 


should  not  return  the  money  which  they  had  given  for  their 
freedom.  To  this  the  senate  agreed.  Disgrace  to  the  em- 
pire ! For  the  faith  of  pirates  is  better  than  was  the  senate’s. 
But  our  revenues  have  been  increased  by  it — therefore  it 
vras  expedient.  How  long  will  people  venture  to  say  that 
any  thing  is  expedient  which  is  not  virtuous  ? Now,  can 
odium  and  infamy  be  useful  to  any  empire  which  ought  to 
be  supported  by  glory  and  the  good-will  of  its  allies?  I 
often  disagreed  in  opinion  even  with  my  friend  Cato.  For 
he  seemed  to  me  too  rigidly  to  defend  the  treasury  and 
tributes  ; to  deny  all  concessions  to  the  farmers  of  the  revenue  ; 
and  many  to  our  allies,  when  we  ought  to  have  been  munificent 
toward  the  latter,  and  to  have  treated  the  former  as  we  were 
accustomed  to  do  our  colonists,  and  so  much  the  more,  because 
such  a harmony  between  the  orders^  conduced  to  the  safety  of 
the  republic.  Curio  was  also  in  error  when  he  admitted 
that  the  cause  of  the  Transpadani  was  just,  but  always 
added,  “ let  expediency  prevail.”  He  should  rather  have  said 
that  it  was  not  just,  because  not  expedient,  for  the  republic,  than 
to  say  it  was  not  expedient,  when  he  confessed  that  it  was  just. 

XXIII.  The  Gth  book  of  Ilecaton,  “ De  Ofiiciis,”  is  full 
of  such  questions — whether  it  be  the  part  of  a good  man, 
in  an  exceedingly  great  scarcity  of  provisions,  not  to  feed  his 
slaves ; he  argues  on  either  side,  but  still  in  the  end  he 
guides  our  duty  rather  by  utility  than  humanity.  lie 
inquires,  if  goods  must  needs  be  thrown  into  the  sea  in  a 
storm,  whether  oug^ht  one  to  throw  overboard  a valuable  horse 
or  a worthless  slave.  Here  pecuniary  interest  would  incline  us 
one  way,  humanity  another.  K a fool  should  snatch  a plank 
from  a wreck,  shall  a wise  man  wrest  it  from  him  if  he  is 
able  ? He  says  no,  because  it  is  an  injastice.  What  will  the 
master  of  the  ship  do  ? AVill  he  seize  the  plank  as  his  own  ? 
By  no  means — no  more  than  he  would  be  willing  to  toss  into 
the  sea  one  sailing  in  his  ship,  because  it  is  his  own.  For 
until  they  are  come  to  the  place  to  which  the  vessel  was 
chartered,  the  vessel  is  not  the  property  of  the  master,  but 

1 The  equestrian  order,  who  were  the  farmers  of  the  revenue,  and  the 
senators,  who  exacted  too  rigidly  the  full  amount  of  the -contracts,  not- 
withstanding any  event  that  might  render  the  taxes  less  valua.ble  to  tho 
firmers.  This  disgusted  the  knights  with  the  senate,  and  threw  them 
into  the  arms  of  Caesar,  who  procured  for  them  a remission  of  part  of 
their  liabilities. 


CHAP.  XXIIL 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


153 


of  the  passengers.  What,  if  there  be  only  one  planh,  two 
shipwrecked  men,  and  both  wise  ? Should  neither  seize  it,  or 
one  yield  to  the  other?  One,  indeed,  should  yield  to  the 
other,  namely,  to  him  whose  life  was  of  more  consequence 
either  for  his  own  sake  or  that  of  the  commonwealth.  But 
if  these  considerations  be  equal  in  both  cases?  There  will 
be  no  dispute ; but  one,  conquered,  as  it  were,  by  lot,  or  by 
playing  at  odd  or  even,  should  yield  to  the  other.  What, 
if  a father  should  rob  temples,  or  carry  a subterraneous 
passage  into  the  treasury ; should  his  son  inform  of  it  to  the 
magistrates  ? To  do  that  indeed  would  be  impiety.  Nay,  he 
ought  even  to  defend  his  father  if  he  were  accused  of  it.^  Is 

^ The  most  noted  opponent  of  this  crude  and  indefensible  dogma,  which 
would  set  up  a claim  on  the  score  of  personal  relationship  paramount  to 
all  the  claims  of  justice,  has  been  answered,  as  we  have  already  seen,  by 
two  ethical  philosophers  of  no  mean  reputation,  Jonathan  Edwards,  in 
his  “Essay  on  the  Nature  of  True  Virtue,”  and  William  Godwin,  in  his 
“Inquiry  concerning  Political  Justice.”  It  is  the  latter  who  has  carried 
these  principles  to  the  greatest  extent.  Indeed,  ho  appears  so  far  to 
equalize  the  relative  obligations  of  mankind  as  to  make  gratitude  an 
injustice,  and  to  destroy  all  peculiarity  of  claims  arising  from  the  closest 
relationship.  Perhaps,  however,  it  is  safe  to  afiSrm  that  he  has  not  erred 
so  widely  on  the  one  side,  as  Cicero  in  the  above  sentence  has  erred  on 
the  other.  The  following  passage  contains  the  strongest  statement  of 
Godwin’s  views  on  this  point : — 

“ What  magic  is  there  in  the  pronoun  * my’  that  should  justify  us  in 
overturning  the  decisions  of  impartial  truth  ? kly  brother,  or  my  father, 
may  be  a fool,  or  a profligate,  malicious,  lying,  or  dishonest.  If  they  be, 
of  what  consequence  is  it  that  they  are  mine  ? ‘But  through  my  father 
I am  indebted  for  existence,  he  supported  me  in  the  helplessness  of  in- 
fancy.’ When  he  first  subjected  himself  to  the  necessity  of  these  cares, 
he  was  probably  influenced  by  no  particular  motives  of  benevolence  to 
his  future  offspring.  Every  voluntary  benefit,  however,  entitles  the  be- 
stower  to  some  kindness  and  retribution.  Why  ? because  a voluntary 
benefit  is  an  evidence  of  benevolent  intention,  that  is,  in  a certain  degree 
of  virtue.  It  is  the  disposition  of  the  mind,  not  the  external  action  sepa- 
rately taken,  that  entitles  to  respect.  But  the  merit  of  this  disposition 
is  equal,  whether  the  benefit  be  bestowed  upon  me  or  upon  another.  I 
and  another  man  can  not  both  be  right  in  preferring  our  respective  bene- 
factors, for  my  benefactor  can  not  be  at  the  same  time  both  better  and 
worse  than  his  neighbor.  My  benefactor  ought  to  be  esteemed,  not  be- 
cause he  bestowed  a benefit  upon  me,  but  because  he  bestowed  it  upon 
a human  being.  His  desert  will  be  in  exact  proportion  to  the  degree  in 
which  that  human  being  was  worthy  of  the  distinction  preferred. 

“ Thus  every  view  of  the  subject  brings  us  back  to  the  consideration 
of  my  neighbor’s  moral  worth,  and  his  importance  to  the  general  weal, 
as  the  only  standard  to  determine  the  treatment  to  which  he  is  entitled. 

>7^ 


154 


CICERO’S  OEEICES. 


BOOK  IIL 


not  our  country  then  paramount  to  all  duties  ? Yes,  indeed,  but 
it  is  advantageous  to  our  country  itself  to  have  its  citizens  affection- 
ate toward  their  parents.  What,  if  a father  should  endeavor  to 
usurp  tyrannic  power,  or  to  betray  his  country  ? Shall  the  son 
be  silent  ? Nay,  but  he  should  implore  his  father  not  to  do  it. 
If  he  prevail  not,  he  should  reproach — he  should  even  threaten. 
If  at  last  the  matter  should  tend  to  the  ruin  of  his  country,  he 
should  prefer  the  safety  of  his  country  to  that  of  his  father. 

He  also  asks,  if  a wise  man  should  receive  base  money 
unawares  for  good,  shall  he,  when  he  shall  have  come  to  know 
it,  pay  it  instead  of  good,  if  he  owes  money  to  any  person  ? 
Diogenes  affirms  this ; Antipater  denies  it — and  with  him  I 
rather  agree.  Ought  he  who  knowingly  sells  wine  that  will  not 
keep,  to  acquaint  the  buyer  ? Diogenes  thinks  it  unnecessary ; 
Antipater  thinks  it  the  characteristic  of  an  honest  man.  These 
are,  as  it  were,  the  controverted  laws  of  the  Stoics.  In  selling  a 
slave,  are  his  faults  to  be  told — not  those  which,  unless  you  tell, 
the  slave  would  be  returned  by  the  civil  law ; but  these,  that 
he  is  a liar,  a gambler,  a pilferer,  a drunkard  ? These  things 
to  the  one  seem  necessary  to  be  told ; to  the  other  not.  If 
any  person  selling  gold  should  suppose  he  was  selling  brass, 
should  an  honest  man  acquaint  him  that  it  was  gold,  or 
should  he  buy  for  a denarius  what  was  worth  a thousand  de- 
Gratitude,  therefore,  if  by  gratitude  we  understand  a sentiment  of  prefer- 
ence which  I entertain  toward  another,  upon  the  ground  of  my  having 
been  the  subject  of  his  benefits,  is  no  part  either  of  justice  or  virtue. 

“ It  may  be  objected,  ‘ that  my  relation,  my  companion,  or  my  bene- 
factor, will  of  course  in  many  instances  obtain  an  uncommon  portion  of 
my  regard : for  not  being  universally  capable  of  discriminating  the  com- 
parative worth  of  different  men,  I shall  inevitably  judge  most  favorably 
of  him  of  whose  virtues  I have  received  the  most  unquestionable  proofs ; 
and  thus  shall  be  compelled  to  prefer  the  man  of  moral  worth  whom  I 
know,  to  another  who  may  possess,  unknown  to  me,  an  essential  superi- 
ority.’ 

“ This  compulsion,  however,  is  founded  in  the  imperfection  of  human 
nature.  It  may  serve  as  an  apology  for  my  error,  but  can  never  change 
error  into  truth.  It  will  always  remain  contrary  to  the  strict  and  uni- 
versal decisions  of  justice.  The  difficulty  of  conceiving  this,  is  owing 
merely  to  our  confounding  the  disposition  from  which  an  action  is  chosen 
with  the  action  itself.  The  disposition,  that  would  prefer  virtue  to  vice, 
and  a greater  degree  of  virtue  to  a less,  is  undoubtedly  a subject  of  ap- 
probation ; the  erroneous  exercise  of  this  disposition,  by  which  a wrong 
object  is  selected,  if  unavoidable,  is  to  be  deplored,  but  can  by  no  color- 
ing, and  under  no  denomination,  be  converted  into  right.” — Godwin’s 
“Pohtical  Justice,”  voL  i.  book  ii.  chap.  ii. 


CHAP.  XXIV. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


155 


narii  ? It  is  plain  now,  both  what  is  my  view,  and  what  is  the 
controversy  between  those  philosophers  whom  I have  mentioned. 

XXIV.  Are  compacts  and  promises  always  to  bo  kept,^ 
which  are  made  neither  by  means  of  force,  nor  with  crimin- 
al intent  (as  the  praetors  are  accustomed  to  say)  ? If  any 
one  should  give  some  person  a cure  for  the  dropsy,  and 
should  covenant  with  him  that  he  should  never  afterward 
use  that  cure — if  by  that  cure  he  became  well,  and  in  some 
years  afterward  fell  into  the  same  disease,  and  could  not 
obtain  from  him  with  whom  he  had  covenanted,  leave  to 
use  it  again — what  ought  to  be  done  ? Since  he  is  an  in- 
human fellow,  who  would  not  give  him  leave,  and  no  in- 
jury would  be  done  to  that  person  by  using  it,  he  ought  to 
consult  for  his  life  and  health.  What  ? If  a wise  man,  being 
required,  by  one  who  would  make  him  his  heir,  when  he 
would  be  left  by  him  a large  fortune  in  his  will,  that  be- 
fore he  entered  upon  the  inheritance  he  should  dance  openly 
by  daylight  in  the  forum — should  promise  him  that  he 
would  do  it,  because  otherwise  he  would  not  have  made 
him  his  heir;  should  he  do  what  he  promised,  or  not?  I 

1 Promises  are  not  binding  if  performance  is  unlawful.  Sometimes 
men  promise  to  commit  a wicked  act,  even  to  assassination ; but  a man 
is  not  required  to  commit  murder  because  he  has  promised  to  commit  it. 
Thus,  in  the  Christian  scriptures,  the  son  who  has  said,  “I  will  not  work” 
in  the  vineyard,  and  “afterward  repented  and  went,”  is  spoken  of  with 
approbation,  his  promise  was  not  binding,  because  fnlfillment  would  have 
been  wrong.  Cranmer,  whose  religious  firmness  was  overcome  in  the 
prospect  of  the  stake,  recanted ; that  is,  he  promised  to  abandon  the 
Protestant  faith.  Neither  was  his  promise  binding ; to  have  regarded  it 
would  have  been  a crime.  The  offense  both  of  Cranmer  and  of  the  son 
in  the  parable,  consisted  not  in  violating  their  promises  but  in  making 
them.  Respecting  the  often  discussed  question,  whether  extorted  prom- 
ises are  binding,  there  has  been,  I suspect,  a general  want  of  advertence 
to  one  important  point — what  is  an  extorted  promise  ? If  by  an  extort- 
ed promise  is  meant  a promise  that  is  made  involuntarily,  without  tho 
concurrence  of  the  will ; if  it  is  the  effect  of  any  ungovernable  impulse, 
and  made  without  the  consciousness  of  the  party,  then  it  is  not  a promise. 
This  may  happen.  Fear  or  agitation  may  be  so  great  that  a person  really 
does  not  know  what  he  says  or  does,  and  in  such  a case  a man’s  promi- 
ses do  not  bind  him  any  more  than  the  promises  of  a man  in  a fit  of  in- 
sanity. But  if  by  an  “ extorted”  promise  it  is  only  meant  that  very 
powerful  inducements  were  held  out  to  making  it,  inducements,  how- 
ever, which  did  not  take  away  the  power  of  choice — then  these  promises 
are  in  strictness  voluntary,  and  like  all  other  voluntary  engagements 
they  ought  to  be  fulfilled. — Dymond’s  “Principles  of  Morality,”  chap.  6. 


156 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III. 


would  wish  that  he  had  not  promised,  and  I think  that 
this  would  have  been  the  part  suitable  to  his  dignity.  Since 
he  has  promised,  if  he  considers  it  disgraceful  to  dance  in 
the  forum,  he  will  with  greater  propriety  break  his  word, 
provided  he  should  not  take  any  thing  out  of  the  inheritance, 
than  if  he  did  so ; unless,  perhaps,  he  will  contribute  that 
money  to  some  great  occasion  of  the  state — so  that  it  would 
not  be  disgraceful  even  to  dance,  since  he  was  about  to  con- 
sult for  the  interests  of  his  country.^ 

XXY.  But  even  those  promises  ought  not  to  be  kept,  which 
are  hurtful  to  those  very  persons  to  whom  you  have  made  them. 

To  revert  to  fictitious  tales,  Sol  promised  to  Phaeton, 
his  son,  to  do  whatever  he  would  desire.  He  desired  to  bo 
taken  uj)  in  his  father’s  chariot.  He  was  taken  up.  But 
before  he  was  well  settled,  he  was  burned  with  the  stroke  of 
lightning.  How  much  better  would  it  have  been  in  this 
case,  that  the  promise  of  the  father  had  not  been  kept  ? Why 
should  I mention  the  promise  which  Theseus  exacted  from 
Xeptune,  to  whom  when  Xeptune  gave  three  wishes  he 
wished  for  the  death  of  his  son  Hippolytus,  when  he  was 
suspected  by  his  father  concerning  his  step-mother;  by  ob- 
taining which  promise,  Theseus  was  involved  in  the  greatest 
affliction  ? Why,  that  Agamemnon,  when  he  had  vowed  to 
Diana  the  loveliest  thing  that  should  be  born  that  year  in  his 
kingdom,  sacrificed  Iphigenia,  than  whom,  indeed,  nothing 
lovelier  was  born  that  year  ? Better  that  the  promise  should  not 
be  performed,  than  that  a horrible  crime  should  be  committed. 
Therefore,  promises  are  sometimes  not  to  be  performed,  and 
deposits  are  not  always  to  be  restored.  If  any  man  in  sound 
mind  should  have  intrusted  a sword  to  you,  and  having  gone 
mad,  should  ask  it  back,  to  restore  would  be  a crime  ; not  to 
restore,  a duty.  What,  if  he  who  may  have  deposited  money 
with  you,  should  levy  war  against  his  country,  ought  you  to  re- 

1 The  following  is  Cockman’s  note  upon  this  passage : “ Dancing  was 
esteemed  but  a scandalous  practice,  and  unbecoming  a sober  and  prudent 
person  among  the  Romans ; wherefore  our  author  tells  us  in  his  oration 
for  Murena  (chap.  6),  nobody  almost  dances,  unless  he  be  drunk  or  mad, 
and  calls  it  omnium  miiorum  extremum^  a vice  that  no  one  would  bo 
guilty  of  till  lie  had  utterly  abandoned  all  virtue ; and  umhram  lwxuria\ 
that  which  follows  riot  and  debauchery,  as  the  shadow  follows  the  bodj^ 
The  meaning,  therefore,  of  this  place  is,  that  Crassus  would  not  stick  at 
the  basest  actions  if  ho  could  but  fill  his  coffers  by  them.” 


CHAP.  XXVI. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


157 


store  the  deposit  ? I think  not.  For  you  would  be  acting  against 
your  country,  which  ought  to  be  most  dear  to  you.  So,  many 
things  which  are  right  by  nature  become  wrong  by  occasions. 
To  perform  promises,  to  stand  to  agreements,  to  restore  deposits, 
the  expediency  being  altered,  become  contrary  to  virtue. 

Now,  indeed,  of  those  things  which  seem  to  be  profitable, 
contrary  to  justice,  but  with  the  semblance  of  prudence,  I 
think  enough  has  been  said.  But  since  in  the  first  book  we 
derived  duties  from  the  four  sources  of  virtue,  we  shall  be 
engaged  with  those  same,  while  we  show  that  those  things 
which  seem  to  be  useful  are  not  so  as  long  as  they  are  hostile 
to  virtue.  And  indeed  of  prudence,  which  craft  is  apt  to 
imitate,  and  likewise  of  justice,  which  is  always  expedient, 
we  have  already  treated.  Two  parts  of  virtue  remain,  of 
which  the  one  is  discerned  in  the  greatness  and  pre-eminence 
of  an  elevated  mind;  the  other  in  the  habit  and  regulation 
of  continence  and  temperance. 

XXVI.  It  seemed  to  Ulysses  to  be  expedient  [to  act)^  as 
the  tragic  poets,  indeed,  have  represented — for  in  Homer,  the 
best  authority,  there  is  no  such  suspicion  of  Ulysses — but  the 
tragedians  accused  him  of  wishing  to  escape  from  military 
service  by  the  affectation  of  insanity.  A dishonorable  de- 
vice. But  it  was  advantageous,  some  persons,  joerhaps,  will 
say,  to  reign  and  live  at  ease  in  Ithaca,  with  his  parents, 
with  his  wife,  with  his  son.  They  may  ask,  do  you  think 
any  glory  arising  from  daily  toils  and  perils  to  be  compared 
v/ith  this  tranquillity  ? I think,  indeed,  this  tranquillity  is  to 
be  despised  and  rejected,  because  I think  tranquillity  which 
was  not  honorable,  was  not  even  advantageous.  For  what 
reproach  do  you  think  Ulysses  would  have  heard  if  he  had  per- 
severed in  that  dissembling,  when  though  he  performed  the 
greatest  achievements  in  the  war,  he  yet  heard  this  from  Ajax  ? — 

“ Of  the  oath,  of  which  he  was  the  originator,  as  you  all 
know,  he  alone  disregarded  the  obligation.  Madness  he 
feigned ; persisted  in  not  joining  the  army  ; and  had  not  the 
clear-sighted  wisdom  of  Palamedes  seen  through  the  knavish 
audacity  of  the  fellow,  he  would  have  forever  evaded  the 
obligation  of  his  sacred  oath.’^ 

It  was  really  better  for  him  to  buffet,  not  only  with  the 
foe,  but  also  with  the  waves,  as  he  did,  than  to  desert  Greece, 
when  combining  to  wage  war  against  the  barbarians.  But  let 


158 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  III. 


US  leave  both  fables  and  foreign  scenes — let  us  come  to  real 
history,  and  that  our  own.  Marcus  Atilius  Eegulus,  when 
in  his  second  consulship  taken  in  Africa  by  stratagem  by 
Xanthippus,  the  Lacedsemonian  general — ^but  when  Hamilcar, 
the  father  of  Hannibal,  was  the  commander-in-chief — was 
sent  to  the  senate,  bound  by  an  oath,  that  unless  some  noble 
captives  were  restored  to  the  Carthaginians,  he  should 
himself  return  to  Carthage.  When  he  arrived  at  Eome,  ho 
saw  the  semblance  of  advantage,  but,  as  the  event  declares, 
judged  it  a fallacious  appearance,  which  was  this — to  remain 
in  his  country,  to  stay  at  home  with  his  wife  and  his  chil- 
dren ; and,  regarding  the  calamity  which  he  had  experienced 
as  incident  to  the  fortune  of  war,  to  retain  the  rank  of  con- 
sular dignity.  Who  can  deny  these  things  to  be  profitable  ? 
Whom  do  you  think  ? Greatness  of  mind  and  fortitude  deny 
it. 

XXVII.  Can  you  require  more  creditable  authorities'? 
For  it  is  characteristic  of  these  virtues  to  fear  nothing,  to 
despise  all  human  concerns,  to  think  nothing  that  can  happen 
to  a man  intolerable.  What,  then,  did  he  do  ? He  came 
into  the  senate — ^he  disclosed  his  commission — he  refused  to 
declare  his  own  sentiments — ^he  said  that  as  long  as  he  was 
bound  by  an  oath  to  the  enemy  he  was  not  a senator.  And 
this,  too  (oh,  foolish  man ! some  person  will  exclaim,  an 
enemy  to  his  own  interests !)  he  denied  to  be  expedient, 
namely,  that  the  captives  should  be  restored,  for  that  they 
were  young  men  and  good  generals,  that  he  himself  was 
already  worn  out  with  years.  When  his  authority  had  pre- 
vailed, the  captives  were  retained,  and  he  returned  to 
Carthage  ; nor  did  the  love  of  his  country  or  of  his  family 
withhold  him.  Xor  was  he  then  ignorant  that  he  was  return- 
ing to  a most  cruel  enemy,  and  to  exquisite  tortures.  But 
he  considered  that  his  oath  ought  to  be  observed.  Therefore, 
at  the  very  time  when  he  was  undergoing  death  by  want  of 
sleep,  he  was  in  a better  condition  than  if  he  had  remained 
at  home  an  aged  captive,  and  a perjured  consular.  But  he 
acted  foolishly,  since  he  not  only  did  not  advise  the  sending 
back  the  captives,  but  even  spoke  against  the  measure.  How 
foolishly  ? What,  even  if  it  was  advantageous  to  his  country  ? 
Can  that  now  which  is  inexpedient  for  our  country  be 
expedient  for  any  citizen  ? 


CHAP.  XXIX.  . 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


159 


XXYIII.  Men  pervert  those  things  which  are  th«  founda- 
tions of  nature,  when  they  separate  expediency  from  virtue. 
For  we  all  desire  our  own  interest — we  are  carried  along  to 
it;  nor  can  we  by  any  means  do  otherwise.  For  who  is 
there  that  shuns  his  own  advantage  ? or  rather,  who  is  there 
that  does  not  most  eagerly  pursue  it  ? But  because  we  never 
can  find  real  advantage  except  in  good  report,  honor,  virtue  ; 
therefore  we  esteem  these  things  first  and  chief ; we  consider 
the  name  of  utility  not  so  much  noble  as  necessary.  What 
is  there,  then,  somebody  will  say,  in  an  oath  ? Are  we 
afraid  of  angry  Jove  ? But  it  is  a common  principle  with 
all  philosophers,  indeed — not  of  those  only  who  say  that  the 
deity  has  no  labor  himself,  and  imposes  none  on  others — ^but 
of  those  also  who  are  of  opinion  that  the  deity  is  always 
acting  and  planning  something,  that  the  deity  never  is  angry, 
nor  injurious.  But  what  greater  harm  could  angry  Jupiter 
do  to  Eegulus,  than  Kegulus  did  to  himself?  It  was,  then, 
no  force  of  religion  which  prevented  so  great  an  advantage. 
Was  it  that  he  might  act  basely  ? In  the  first  place,  choose 
the  least  among  evils.  Would,  then,  this  trifling  turpitude 
bring  as  much  evil  as  that  great  torture  ? In  the  next 
place,  that  saying  in  Accius — “ Hast  thou  broken  faith  ? I 
neither  have  plighted  nor  do  plight  faith  with  any  of  the 
faithless” — though  it  is  spoken  by  an  impious  king,  yet  is 
well  spoken.  They  add,  also,  that  just  as  we  say  that  some 
acts  seem  useful  which  are  not;  so  they  say  that  some 
acts  seem  virtuous  which  are  not  so ; as  for  instance,  this  very 
act  seems  virtuous,  to  return  to  torture  for  the  sake  of  observ- 
ing an  oath,  but  it  is  really  not  virtuous,  because  whatever 
is  extorted  by  the  violence  of  enemies,  ought  not  to  be 
fulfilled.  They  add  also  that  whatever  is  very  advantageous 
becomes  virtuous,  even  though  it  did  not  seem  so  before. 
These  things  are  usually  urged  against  Eegulus.  But  let  us 
consider  the  first  objection. 

XXIX.  We  need  not  dread  Jupiter,  lest  in  his  wrath  he 
might  do  us  harm,  who  neither  is  accustomed  to  be  wroth, 
nor  to  do  harm.  This  reasoning,  indeed,  applies  not  more 
against  Eegulus  than  against  every  oath  ; but  in  an  oath  it 
ought  to  be  considered,  not  what  is  the  fear,  but  what  is  the 
force.  For  an  oath  is  a religious  affirmation ; but  what  you 
solemnly  promise,  as  if  the  deity  were  witness,  to  that  you 


160 


CICERO’S  OEFICES. 


BOOK  III 


ought  to  adhere.^  For  it  pertains  noAV  not  to  the  anger  of  the 
gods,  which  exists  not,  but  to  justice  and  fidelity.  For  well 
has  Ennius  said — 

“ 0 holy  Faith,  winged,  and  the  very  oath  of  Jove.” 

lie,  then,  who  violates  an  oath,  violates  Faith,  which  our 
ancestors,  as  is  recorded  in  Cato’s  speech,  wished  to  be  in  the 
Capitol,  next  to  Jupiter  Greatest  and  Best.  But  they  argue 
that  even  angry  Jupiter  could  not  have  done  more  harm  to 
Eegulus  than  Eegulus  did  to  himself.  Certainly  not,  if 
nothing  but  pain  be  an  evil.  But  philosophers  of  the  highest 
authority  assert,  not  only  that  it  is  not  the  greatest  evil,  but 
that  it  is  not  an  evil  at  all.  I pray  you  not  to  despise  a 
witness  of  theirs,  of  no  slight  weighb— I know  not,  indeed, 
but  that  he  is  the  weightiest — namely,  Eegulus.  For,  whom 
do  we  require  more  creditable  than  the  chief  of  the  Eoman 
people — ^who,  for  the  sake  of  adhering  to  duty,  underwent 
voluntary  torture  ? But  as  to  what  they  say,  choose  the  least 
of  evils — ^that  is  baseness  rather  than  calamity — can  there  be 
any  evil  greater  than  baseness  ? And  if  this  implies  some- 
thing of  disgust  in  the  deformity  of  person,  how  much  worse 
should  appear  the  depravity  and  foulness  of  a debased  mind  ? 
They,^  therefore,  who  treat  of  these  subjects  more  boldly, 

^ “ An  oath  is  that  whereby  we  call  God  to  witness  the  truth  of  what 
we  say ; with  a curse  upon  ourselves,  either  implied  or  expressed,  should 
it  prove  false.” — Milton  on  Christian  Doctrine. 

While  the  sacredness  of  oaths  is  still  held  as  a principle  of  morals,  the 
lawfulness  of  their  administration  is  doubted  by  many,  and  their  efficacy 
perhaps  by  the  majority  of  modern  society.  The  increased  security  for 
the  veracity  of  him  who  takes  them,  which  they  are  supposed  to  afford, 
is  in  the  case  of  an  honest  man  unnecessary,  and  of  a dishonest  man 
valueless.  The  argument  of  Godwin  with  relation  to  oaths  of  duty  and 
office,  appears  to  admit  of  a universal  application ; the  same  arguments 
that  prove  the  injustice  of  tests,  may  be  applied  universally  to  all  oaths 
of  duty  and  office.  ‘‘  If  I entered  upon  the  office  without  an  oath,  what 
would  be  my  duty  ? Can  the  oath  that  is  imposed  upon  me  make  any 
alteration  in  my  duty?  if  not,  does  not  the  very  act  of  imposing  it,  by 
implication,  assert  a falsehood  ? Will  this  falsehood  have  no  injurious 
effect  upon  a majority  of  the  persons  concerned?  What  is  the  true  cri- 
terion that  I shall  faithfully  discharge  the  office  that  is  conferred  upon 
me  ? Surely  my  past  life,  not  any  protestations  I may  be  compelled  to 
make.  If  my  life  have  been  unimpeachable,  this  compulsion  is  an  un- 
merited insult ; if  it  have  been  otherwise,  it  is  something  worse.” — God- 
win’s “ Political  Justice,”  book  vi.  chap.  v. 

2 Cicero  here  obviously  refers  to  the  Stoics  who  regarded  pleasure  and 


CHAP.  XXIX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


161 


venture  to  say  that  that  which  is  base  is  the  only  evil ; but 
they^  who  treat  of  them  more  timidly,  yet  do  not  hesitate  to 
call  it  the  greatest  evil.  Now,  that  saying  indeed — “ I neither 
have  plighted,  nor  do  plight  faith  with  any  of  the  faithless” 
— was  well  imagined  by  the  poet,  on  this  account,  because 
when  Atreus  was  being  delineated,  it  was  necessary  to  sus- 
tain the  character.  But  if  they  take  this  to  themselves, 
that  there  is  no  faith  which  is  plighted  to  the  faithless, 
let  them  see  to  it  lest  it  be  sought  as  a subterfuge  for 
perjury. 

There  are  also  rights  of  war,  and  the  faith  of  an  oath  is 
often  to  be  kept  with  an  enemy.  For  that,  which  is  so  sworn 
that  the  mind  conceives  it  ought  to  be  done,  that  should 
be  observed.  \Yhat  is  otherwise,  if  you  perform  it  not, 

pain  as  indifferent.  This  theory  is  thus  refuted  by  that  most  ingenious 
metaphysician  and  moralist,  Dr.  Thomas  Rrowne.  “ Between  mere 
pleasure  and  mere  virtue  there  is  a competition,  in  short,  of  the  less  with 
the  greater  ; but  though  virtue  be  the  greater,  and  the  greater  in  every 
case  in  which  it  can  be  opposed  to  mere  pleasure,  pleasure  is  still  good 
in  itself,  and  would  be  covetable  by  the  virtuous  in  every  case  in  which 
the  greater  good  of  virtue  is  not  inconsistent  with  it.  It  is,  indeed,  be- 
cause pleasure  and  pain  are  not  in  themselves  absolutely  indifferent  that 
man  is  virtuous  in  resisting  the  solicitations  of  the  one  and  the  threats 
of  the  other.  And  there  is  thus  a self-confutation  in  the  principles  of 
stoicism,  which  it  is  truly  astonishing  that  the  founder  of  the  system,  or 
some  one  of  the  ancient  and  modern  commentators  on  it,  should  not  have 
discovered.  We  may  praise,  indeed,  the  magnanimity  of  him  who  dares 
to  suffer  every  external  evil  which  men  can  suffer  rather  than  give  his 
conscience  one  guilty  remembrance  ; but  it  is  because  there  is  evil  to  be 
endured  that  we  may  praise  him  for  his  magnanimity  in  bearing  the  evil, 
and  if  there  be  no  ill  to  be  endured,  there  is  no  magnanimity  that  can  be 
called  forth  to  endure  it.  The  bed  of  roses  differs  from  the  burning  bull ; 
not  merely  as  a square  differs  from  a circle,  or  as  flint  differs  from  clay, 
but  as  that  which  is  physically  evil ; and  if  they  do  not  so  differ  as  good 
and  evil,  there  could  be  as  little  merit  in  consenting  when  virtue  required 
the  sacrifice  to  suffer  all  the  bodily  pain  which  the  instrument  of  torture 
could  inflict,  rather  than  to  rest  in  guilty  indolence  on  that  luxurious 
couch  of  flowers,  as  there  could  be  in  the  mere  preference  for  any  physi- 
cal purpose  of  a circular  to  an  angular  form,  or  of  the  softness  of  clay  to 
the  hardness  of  flint.  Moral  excellence  is,  indeed,  in  every  case,  prefer- 
able to  mere  physical  enjoyment : and  there  is  no  enjoyment  worthy  of 
the  choice  of  man  when  virtue  forbids  the  desire.  But  virtue  is  the 
superior  only,  not  the  sole  power;  she  has  imperial  sway,  but  her  sway 
is  imperial  only  because  there  are  forms  of  inferior  good  over  which  it  is 
her  glory  to  preside.” — Moral  Philosophy,  Lect.  xcix. 

1 The  Peripatetics. 


162 


CICERO’S  OFEICES. 


BOOK  III. 


involves  no  perjury.  Thus,  if  you  should  not  pay  a prico 
for  your  life,  agreed  on  with  robbers,  it  is  no  fraud  if  you 
should  not  perform  it,  though  bound  by  an  oath.^  For  a 
pirate  is  not  comprehended  in  the  number  of  lawful  enemies, 
but  is  the  common  foe  of  all  men.  With  such  a man,  neither 

1 “ Grotius,”  says  an  anonymous  commentator  (do  Jure  Belli  et  Pads. 

II,  13,  § 15),  “citing  this  passage,  admits  that  a person  extorting  a 
promise  by  force,  can  have  no  right  to  demand  its  performance ; but 
thinks  that  an  oath  accompanying  it  makes  it  binding  in  conscience.’^ 
Hobbes,  de  Civ.  ii.  16,  maintains  that  a promise,  because  extorted  by  fear, 
is  not  the  less  obligatory  in  cases  where  the  promiser  receives  from  it 
some  benefit.  On  this  it  is  remarked  by  Puffendorf,  that  merely  abstain- 
ing from  injury  can  not  be  reckoned  among  benefits ; that  a highway- 
man, for  instance,  who  does  not  murder  you,  can  not  be  called  your  bene- 
factor. Hobbes’s  doctrine  is,  therefore,  thus  qualified  by  Puffendorf,  pro- 
vided that  the  promiser  can  legitimately  exact  the  performance  of  that 
promise.  To  this  Barbeyrac,  the  learned  and  acute  commentator  on  both 
Grotius  and  Puffendorf^  fully  accedes,  and  pronounces  that  every  act  of 
violence,  every  sort  of  menace,  by  which  the  promises,  against  his  wiU,  is 
induced  to  make  an  engagement  into  which  he  otherwise  would  not  have 
entered,  deprives  him  of  the  liberty  necessary  to  form  a valid  engagement, 
and,  consequently,  annuls  all  such  promises  and  convocations.  He  adds, 
that  the  performance  of  an  engagement  made  under  such  circumstances 
is  injurious  to  society,  as  it  leads  to  the  encouragement  of  robbers.  Adam 
Smith  has  treated  this  question  much  at  length.  Theory  of  Mor.  Sent.  vii. 
4.  With  some  exceptions,  and  guardedly,  he  leans  to  the  opposite  opin- 
ion. Some  regard,  he  thinks,  should  be  paid  to  promises  of  this  kind, 
but  how  much  it  is  not  possible  to  determine  by  any  general  rule.  If 
the  sum  promised  was  very  great,  such  for  example  as  would  ruin  by  its 
payment  the  family  of  the  payer,  or  sufficient  to  effect  the  most  useful 
purposes,  it  would  appear  comical,  at  least  extremely  improper,  to  throw 
it  into  such  worthless  hands,  but  in  general  it  may  be  said  that  exact 
propriety  requires  the  observance  of  such  promises  where  not  inconsist- 
ent with  other  duties,  when  violated  it  is  always  with  some  degree  of  dis- 
honor to  the  person  who  made  them.  It  is  observable  that  Paley  ap- 
pears to  have  changed  his  opinion  on  the  subject  of  such  promises.  In 
the  first  edition  of  his  valuable  work  on  Moral  and  Political  Philosophy, 

III.  part  1,  5,  he  states  their  obligation  to  depend  on  the  question  wheth- 
er mankind  are  benefited  or  not  by  their  observance,  concluding  that 
lives  are  saved  by  it,  he  treats  such  promises  as  in  general  binding.  But 
in  subsequent  editions  he  observes,  that  they  may  be  made  the  instru- 
ment of  almost  unlimited  extortion,  and  therefore  in  the  question  be- 
tween the  importance  of  these  opposite  consequences  resides  the  doubt 
concerning  the  obligation  of  such  promises.  The  noble-minded  Mon- 
taigne remarks  on  this  subject:  “Ce  que  la  crainte  m’a  fait  une  fois 
vouloir,  je  suis  tenu  de  la  vouloir  encore  sans  crainte ; et  quand  elle 
n’aura  force  que  ma  langue  sans  la  volonte,  encore,  suis  je  tenu  de  fairo 
la  maille  bonne  de  ma  parole.’* 


CHJLP.  XXX. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


163 


should  faith  nor  an  oath  be  in  common.  For  to  swear  what  is 
false  is  not  always  perjury ; but  not  to  do  that  which  you 
swear  according  to  the  sentiment  of  your  mind,  “ex  animi 
tui  sententia,”  as  it  it  expressed  in  words  in  our  law  form,  is  per- 
jury. For  Euripides  says  well — “ With  my  tongue  have  I sworn ; 
I bear  an  unsworn  conscience.” 

But  Regulus  was  under  obligation  not  to  disturb  by 
perjury  the  conditions  and  covenants  of  war  and  of  the 
enemy ; for  the  affair  was  transacted  with  a just  and  lawful 
foe,  in  regard  to  whom  both  the  entire  Fecial  law  and  many 
other  laws  are  binding  in  common.  Had  not  this  been  so,  the 
senate  would  never  have  delivered  up  eminent  men  bound  to  the 
enemy. 

XXX.  But  Titus  Yeturius  and  Spurius  Postumius,  when 
they  were  consuls  the  second  time,  were  given  up  to  the 
Samnites  because  they  had  made  a peace  with  them,  after 
having  fought  with  ill  success  at  Caudium,  when  our  legions 
were  sent  under  the  yoke ; for  they  had  made  it  without  the 
command  of  the  people  and  senate.  And  at  the  same  time, 
Titus  Xumicius,  and  Quintus  Mselius,  who  were  then  tri- 
bunes of  the  people,  because  the  peace  was  made  by  their 
authority,  were  given  up,  that  the  peace  with  the  Samnites 
might  be  rejected.  And  of  this  surrender,  Postumius 
himself,  who  was  given  up,  was  the  advocate  and  author. 
Which  same  thing  Caius  Mancinus  did,  many  years  after- 
ward, who  advocated  that  bill  which  Lucius  Furius  and 
Sextus  Atilius,  by  a decree  of  the  senate,  brought  in,  that 
he  himself  should  be  delivered  up  to  the  Xumantines,  with 
whom  he  had  made  a league  without  the  authority  of  the 
senate ; which  bill  being  passed  by  the  people,  he  was  given 
up  to  the  enemy.  He  acted  more  worthily  than  Quintus 
Pompeius,  through  whose  petitioning  against  such  a measure, 
when  he  was  in  similar  circumstances,  the  law  was  not  passed. 
With  this  man,  that  which  seemed  his  interest  had  more 
weight  than  virtue  had ; in  the  former  instances,  the  false 
semblance  of  expediency  was  overcome  by  the  authority  of 
virtue.  But,  say  they,  that  which  was  extorted  by  force 
ought  not  to  be  ratified;  as  if,  indeed,  force  could  be  used 
to  a man  of  fortitude.  Why,  then,  you  say,  did  Regulus  go 
to  the  senate,  if  he  was  about  to  dissuade  them  concerning 
the  captives  ? You  are  reprehending  that  which  was  the 


164 


CICERO’S  OFEICES. 


BOOK  in. 


noblest  thing  in  that  transaction;  for  lie  did  not  rely  upon 
liis  own  judgment,  but  he  undertook  the  cause  that  there 
might  be  a decision  of  the  senate  ; by  whom,  had  not  he  him- 
self been  the  adviser  of  the  measure,  the  prisoners,  indeed, 
would  have  been  restored  to  the  Carthaginians.  Thus 
Regulus  would  have  remained  in  safety  in  his  country; 
which,  because  he  thought  inexpedient  for  his  country, 
therefore  he  believed  it  virtuous  in  himself,  both  to  think 
and  to  suffer  these  things.  Now,  as  to  what  they  say,  that 
whatever  is  very  useful  becomes  virtuous,  I say.  Nay,  it  is  so 
really,  and  does  not  merely  become  so ; for  nothing  is  expedient 
which  is  not  likewise  virtuous  ; and  it  is  not  because  it  is  ex- 
pedient that  it  is  virtuous,  but  because  it  is  virtuous  it  is  expe- 
dient. Wherefore  out  of  many  admirable  examples,  one  could 
not  easily  mention  one  either  more  laudable  or  more  excellent 
than  this. 

XXXI.  But  out  of  all  this  laudable  conduct  of  Eegulus, 
this  alone  is  worthy  of  admiration,  that  he  was  of  opinion 
that  the  prisoners  ought  to  be  retained.  For  that  he  re- 
turned seems  wonderful  to  us  now,  though  at  that  time  he 
could  not  do  otherwise.  Therefore,  that  was  not  the  merit 
of  the  man,  but  of  the  times.  For  our  ancestors  were  of 
opinion  that  there  was  no  tie  closer  than  an  oath  to  bind 
our  faith.  This  the  laws  of  the  twelve  tables  indicate — 
this  the  leges  sacratse^  indicate,  this  the  leagues  indicate, 
by  which  our  faith  is  pledged  even  with  enemies.  The 
opinions  and  animadversions  of  the  Censors  indicate  it,  who 
passed  sentence  on  no  subject  more  strictly  than  on  such  as 
concerned  oaths.  Marcus  Pomponius,  tribune  of  the  people, 
fixed  a day  for  Lucius  Manlius,  the  son  of  Aulus,  when  he 
had  been  Dictator,  to  stand  his  trial,  because  he  had  taken 
to  himself  a few  days  in  addition  for  holding  the  dictator- 
ship. He  accused  him  also  because  he  had  banished  from 
intercourse  with  men,  his  son  Titus,  who  was  afterward 
called  Torquatus,  and  had  commanded  him  to  reside  in  the 
country.  When  the  young  man,  the  son,  had  heard  this, 
that  trouble  was  brought  upon  his  father,  he  is  said  to  have 
hastened  to  Rome,  and  to  have  come  with  the  first  dawn  to 

^ The  laws  concerning  liberty  and  the  tribunitial  power,  so  called,  be- 
cause he  who  violated  them  was  to  be  held  devoted  (sacer)  to  the  re- 
sentment of  the  deity. 


CHAP.  XXXIL 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


165 


the  house  of  Pomponius,  who,  when  it  was  announced  to 
him,  supposing  that  the  son,  being  enraged,  was  about  to 
bring  to  him  some  accusation  against  his  father,  arose  from 
his  bed,  and,  the  bystanders  having  been  dismissed,  ordered 
the  youth  to  come  to  him.  But  he,  when  he  entered,  hastily 
drew  his  sword,  and  swore  that  he  would  intan tly  slay  him 
unless  he  gave  his  oath  that  he  would  suffer  his  father  to  be 
discharged.  Pomponius,  forced  by  fear,  swore  this  ; he  subse- 
quently brought  the  matter  before  the  people,  and  informed  them 
why  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  abandon  the  prosecution,  and 
then  suffered  Manlius  to  be  discharged.  So  much  force  had  an 
oath  in  those  times.  And  this  is  that  Titus  Manlius  who  ac- 
quired the  surname  of  Torquatus,  at  the  Anio,  for  taking  the 
collar  from  the  Gaul,  whom  he,  having  been  challenged  by  him, 
had  slain ; in  whose  third  consulship  the  Latins  were  routed 
and  put  to  flight  at  the  Veseris.  A most  eminently  great  man, 
but  though  very  indulgent  to  his  father,  was  again  cruelly  severe 
to  his  son. 

XXXIL  But  as  Begulus  is  to  be  commended  for  observ- 
ing his  oath,  so  these  ten  are  to  be  condemned  whom  Hanni- 
bal, after  the  battle  of  Cannae,  sent  to  the  senate  under  an 
oath  that  they  would  return  to  that  camp  which  the  Cartha- 
ginians had  got  possession  of,  unless  they  succeeded  about 
redeeming  the  prisoners ; if  it  be  true  that  they  did  not  re- 
turn— about  whom,  all  historians  do  not  relate  the  story  in 
the  same  manner.  For  Polybius,  an  eminently  good  author, 
writes,  that  out  of  ten  very  noble  persons  who  were  then  sent, 
nine  returned,  the  request  not  having  been  granted  by  the 
senate  ; that  one  of  the  ten,  who,  a short  time  after  he  had 
gone  out  of  the  camp,  had  returned,  as  if  he  had  forgotten 
something,  remained  at  Pome.  For,  by  his  return  into  the 
camp,  he  construed  it  that  he  was  freed  from  his  oath — 
not  rightly,  for  fraud  does  but  fasten,  not  absolve  perjury. 
It  was,  then,  silly  cunning,  perversely  imitating  prudence. 
The  senate,  therefore,  decreed,  that  this  double-dealing  and 
artful  fellow  should  be  brought  fettered  to  Hannibal.  But 
the  greatest  act  of  the  senate  was  this.  Hannibal  had  eight 
thousand  men  prisoners ; not  those  whom  he  had  taken  in 
battle,  or  who  had  fled  from  the  peril  of  death,  but  who  had 
been  left  in  the  camp  by  the  Consuls,  Paullus  and  Varro, 
The  senate  decreed  that  these  should  not  be  redeemed,  though 


166 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  m. 


it  miglit  have  been  done  at  a small  expense,  that  it  might  be 
impressed  upon  our  soldiers  that  they  were  either  to  con- 
quer or  die — which  circumstance,  indeed,  having  become 
known,  the  same  author  writes  that  the  courage  of  Hannibal 
fell,  because  the  Roman  senate  and  people  possessed  so  lofty 
a spirit  in  their  depressed  condition.  Thus  those  things  which 
seem  expedient,  are  overpowered  by  a comparison  with  virtue. 

But  Acilius,  who  wrote  his  history  in  Greek,  says  that 
there  were  more  than  one  who  returned  into  the  camp  with 
the  same  fraudulent  design,  that  they  might  be  freed  from  their 
oath,  and  that  they  were  branded  by  the  censors  with  every 
ignominy. 

Let  this  now  be  the  end  of  this  subject.  For  it  is  plain 
that  those  acts  which  are  done  with  a timid,  humble,  abject, 
and  broken  spirit  (such  as  would  have  been  the  conduct  of 
Regulus,  if,  respecting  the  prisoners,  he  had  either  advised  what 
seemed  to  be  needM  for  himself,  not  what  he  considered 
beneficial  to  the  commonwealth,  or  had  desired  to  remain  at 
home),  are  inexpedient,  because  they  are  scandalous,  foul,  and 
base. 

XXXm.  The  fourth  part  remains,  which  is  compre- 
hended in  propriety,  moderation,  modesty,  continence,  temper- 
ance. Can  any  thing,  then,  be  expedient,  which  is  contrary 
to  this  train  of  such  virtues  ? However,  the  Cyrenseans,  fol- 
lowers of  Aristippus,  and  the  Annicerians,  misnamed  philo- 
sophers, have  made  all  good  consist  in  pleasure,  and  have 
thought  virtue  to  be  commended  on  this  account,  because  it  is 
productive  of  pleasure ; but,  as  they  are  antiquated,  Epicurus 
flourishes,  the  advocate  and  author  of  nearly  the  same  opinion. 
Against  these  we  must  fight  with  man  and  horse,  as  it  is  said, 
if  it  is  our  intention  to  defend  and  retain  virtue.  For  if  not 
only  expediency,  but  all  the  happiness  of  life,  be  contained  in 
a strong  bodily  constitution,  and  in  the  certain  hope  of  that 
constitution,  as  it  is  written  by  Methrodorus  ; certainly  this  ex- 
pediency, and  that  the  greatest  (as  they  think),  will  stand  in 
opposition  to  virtue.  For,  in  the  first  place,  where  will  room 
be  given  for  prudence  ? Is  it  that  it  may  seek  on  all  sides 
after  sweets?  How  miserable  the  servitude  of  virtue,  when 
the  slave  of  pleasure  ? Moreover,  what  would  be  the  ofiice  of 
Prudence  ? Is  it  to  select  pleasures  ingeniously  ? Admit  that 
nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  this;  what  can  bo 


CHAP.  XXXIII. 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


167 


imagined  more  base  ? N'ow,  what  room  can  Fortitude, 
which  is  the  contemning  of  pain  and  labor,  have  in  his 
system,  who  calls  pain  the  greatest  of  evils  ? For  though 
Epicurus  may  speak,  as  he  does  in  many  places,  with  suffi- 
cient fortitude  regarding  pain  ; nevertheless,  we  are  not  to 
regard  what  he  may  say,  but  what  it  is  consistent  in  him  to 
say,  as  he  would  confine  good  to  pleasure,  evil  to  pain ; so  if 
I would  listen  to  him  on  the  subject  of  continence  and  tem- 
perance, he  says,  indeed,  many  things  in  many  places ; but 
there  is  an  impedient  in  the  stream,^  as  they  say.  For  how 
can  he  commend  temperance  who  places  the  chief  good  in 
pleasure  ? For  temperance  is  hostile  to  irregular  passions ; 
but  irregular  passions  are  the  companions  of  pleasure.  And 
yet,  in  these  three  classes  of  virtue,  they  make  a shift,  in 
wffiat  ever  manner  they  can,  not  without  cleverness.  They 
introduce  prudence  as  the  science  which  supplies  pleasures 
and  repels  pain.  Fortitude,  too,  they  explain  in  some  man- 
ner, when  they  teach  that  it  is  the  means  of  disregarding 
death,  and  enduring  pain.  Even  temperance  they  introduce 
— not  very  easily,  indeed — ^but  yet  in  whatever  way  they 
can.  For  they  say  that  the  height  of  pleasure  is  limited 
to  the  absence  of  pain.*  Justice  staggers,  or  rather  falls 
to  the  ground,  and  all  those  virtues  which  are  discerned  in 
society,  and  the  association  of  mankind.  For  neither  kind- 
ness, nor  liberality,  nor  courtesy  can  exist,  any  more  than 
friendship,  if  they  are  not  sought  for  there  own  sakes,  but 
are  referred  to  pleasure  and  interest.  Let  us,  therefore,  sum 
up  the  subject  in  a few  words.  For  as  we  have  taught  that 
there  is  no  expediency  which  can  be  contrary  to  virtue  : so 
we  say  that  all  bodily  pleasure  is  opposed  to  virtue.  On 
which  account  I think  Callipho  and  Dinomachus  the  more 
deserving  of  censure,  for  they  thought  they  would  put  an 
end  to  the  controversy  if  they  should' couple  pleasure  'with 
virtue  ; as  if  they  should  couple  a human  being  with  a brute. 
Virtue  does  not  admit  that  combination — it  spurns,  it  repels 
it.  Nor  can,  indeed,  the  ultimate  principle  of  good  and  evil, 
which  ought  to  be  simple,  be  compounded  of,  and  tempered 
with  these  most  dissimilar  ingredients.  But  about  this  (for 

^ Meaning  that  the  system  of  Epicurus  presents  impediments  to  the 
Rowing  of  the  virtues,  like  obstructions  in  a water-course. 

2 That  is,  that  the  greatest  pleasure  consists  in  the  absence  of  pain. 


168 


CICERO’S  OFFICES. 


BOOK  in- 


it  is  important  subject),  I have  said  more  in  another 
place.  Now  to  my  original  proposition.  How,  then,  if  ever 
that  which  seems  expedient  is  opposed  to  virtue,  the  matter 
is  to  be  decided,  has  been  sufficiently  treated  of  above.  But 
if  pleasure  be  said  to  have  even  the  semblance  of  expedi- 
ence, there  can  be  no  union  of  it  with  virtue.  For  though 
we  may  concede  something  to  pleasure,  perhaps  it  has  some- 
thing of  a relish,  but  certainly  it  has  in  it  nothing  of  utility. 

You  have  a present  from  your  father,  my  son  Marcus ; 
in  my  opinion,  indeed,  an  important  one — ^but  it  will  be  just 
as  you  will  receive  it.  However,  these  three  books  will  de- 
serve to  be  received  by  you  as  guests  among  the  commenta- 
ries of  Cratippus.  But  as,  if  I myself  had  gone  to  Athens 
(which  would  indeed  have  been  the  case  had  not  my  country, 
with  loud  voice,  called  me  back  from  the  middle  of  my  jour- 
ney),  you  would  sometimes  have  listened  to  me  also  : so,  since 
my  voice  has  reached  you  in  these  volumes,  you  will  bestow 
upon  them  as  much  time  as  you  can ; and  you  can  bestow 
as  much  as  you  wish.  But  when  I shall  understand  that 
you  take  delight  in  this  department  of  science,  then  will  I 
converse  with  you  both  when  present,  which  will  be  in  a 
short  time,  as  I expect — and  while  you  will  be  far  away, 
I will  talk  with  you,  though  absent.  Farewell,  then,  my 
Cicero,  afid  be  assured  that  you  are  indeed  very  dear  to 
me,  but  that  you  will  be  much  more  dear  if  you  shall  take 
delight  in  such  memorials  and  precepts. 


ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


L Quintus  Mucius,  the  augur,  ^ used  to  relate  many 
things  of  Caius  Lseiius,  his  father-in-law,  from  memory,  and 
in  a pleasant  manner,  and  did  not  scruple  in  every  discourse 
to  call  him  a wise  man.  Moreover  I myself,  after  assuming 
the  manly  toga,^  was  introduced  by  my  father  to  Scsevola,  in 
such  a way  that,  as  far  as  I could  and  it  was  permitted  me, 
I never  quitted  the  old  man’s  side.  Accordingly,  many 
sagacious  discussions  of  his,  and  many  short  and  apt  sayings, 
I committed  to  memory,  and  desired  to  become  better  in- 
formed by  his  wisdom.  When  he  died,  I betook  myself  to 
Scsevola  the  pontiff,  who  is  the  only  man  in  our  country  that 
I venture  to  pronounce  the  most  distinguished  for  talent  and 
for  integrity.  But  of  him  elsewhere.  I now  return  to  the 
augur.  Among  many  other  circumstances,  I remember  that 
once  being  seated  at  home  in  his  arm-chair  (as  was  his 
custom),  when  I was  in  his  company,  and  a very  few  of  his 
intimate  friends,  he  fell  by  chance  upon  that  subject  of  dis- 
course which  at  the  time  was  in  the  mouth  of  nearly  every 
one : for  you  of  course  remember,  Atticus,  and  the  more  so 
because  you  were  very  intimate  with  Publius  Sulpicius 
(when  he,  as  tribune  of  the  people,®  was  estranged  by  a 

^ Augur  is  often  put  for  any  one  who  predicted  future  events.  Auspex 
denoted  a person  who  observed  and  interpreted  omens.  Augurium  and 
auspicium  are  commonly  used  interchangeably,  but  they  are  sometimes 
distinguished.  Auspicium  was  properly  the  foretelling  of  futute  events 
from  the  inspection  of  birds ; Augurium  from  any  omen  or  prodigies 
whatever.  Fifteen  augurs  constituted  the  college. 

The  toga  pradexta^  a robe  bordered  with  purple,  was  worn  by  young 
people,  male  and  female,  and  by  the  superior  magistrates.  The  toga  picra^ 
or  white  gown,  was  worn  by  men  after  the  age  of  about  seventeen,  and 
by  women  after  marriage. 

3 Tribuni  plebis^  magistrates  created  for  the  maintenance  of  popular 
rights,  in  the  year  u.o.  261.  Their  number  was  originally  two,  which 
was  raised  to  live,  and  afterward  to  ten.  Their  office  was  annual 

8 


170 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP,  t 


deadly  hatred  from  Quintus  Pompey,  who  was  then  consul, 
with  whom  up  to  that  time  he  had  lived  on  terms  of  the 
closest  union  and  affection),  how  great  was  the  surprise  and 
even  regret  of  the  people.  Accordingly,  when  Scaevola  had 
incidentally  mentioned  that  very  subject,  he  laid  before  us 
the  discourse  of  Lselius  on  Friendship,  which  had  been  ad- 
dressed by  the  latter  to  himself  and  to  the  other  son-in-law  of 
Lselius,  Caius  Fannius,  the  son  of  Marcus,  a few  days  after 
the  death  of  Africanus.  The  opinions  of  that  disquisition  I 
committed  to  memory,  and  in  this  book  I have  set  them  forth 
according  to  my  own  judgment.  For  I have  introduced  the 
individuals  as  if  actually  speaking,  lest  “ said  I ” and  “ said 
he  ” should  be  too  frequently  interposed ; and  that  the 
dialogue  might  seem  to  be  held  by  persons  face  to  face.  For 
when  you  were  frequently  urging  me  to  write  something  on 
the  subject  of  friendship,  it  seemed  to  me  a matter  worthy 
as  well  of  the  consideration  of  all  as  of  our  intimacy.  I have 
therefore  willingly  done  so,  that  I might  confer  a benefit 
on  many  in  consequence  of  your  request.  But  as  in  the  Cato 
Major,  which  was  addressed  to  you  on  the  subject  of  old  age, 
I have  introduced  Cato  when  an  old  man  conversing,  because 
there  seemed  no  person  better  adapted  to  speak  of  that  period 
of  life  than  he,  who  had  been  an  old  man  for  so  long  a time, 
and  in  that  old  age  had  been  pre-eminently  prosperous ; so 
when  I had  heard  from  our  ancestors  that  the  attachment  of 
Caius  Laelius  and  Publius  Scipio  was  especially  worthy  of 
record,  the  character  of  Lselius  seemed  to  me  a suitable  one 
to  deliver  these  very  observations  on  friendship  which 
Scsevola  remembered  to  have  been  spoken  by  him.  Now 
this  description  of  discourses,  resting  on  the , authority  of  men 
of  old,  and  of  those  of  high  rank,  seems,  I know  not  on  what 
principle,  to  carry  with  it  the  greater  weight.^  Accordingly, 

* “We  continue  to  think  and  feel  as  our  ancestors  have  thought  and 
felt ; so  true  in  innumerable  cases  is  the  observation  that  ‘ men  make  up 
their  principles  by  inheritance,  and  defend  them  as  they  would  their 
estates,  because  they  are  born  heirs  to  them.^  It  has  been  justly  said 
that  it  is  difficult  to  regard  that  as  an  evil  which  has  been  long  done, 
and  that  there  are  many  great  and  excellent  things  which  we  never  think 
of  doing,  merely  because  no  one  has  done  them  before  us.  ‘ The  preju- 
dice for  antiquity  is  itself  very  ancient,’  says  La  Motte;  and  it  is  amus- 
ing, at  the  distance  of  so  many  hundred  years,  to  find  the  same  com- 
plaint of  undue  partiality  to  the  writers  of  other  ages  brought  forward 


CHAP.  II. 


CICERO  ON  ERIENOSHIP. 


171 


while  I am  reading  my  own  writing,  I am  sometimes  so  much 
affected  as  to  suppose  that  it  is  Cato,  and  not  myself  that  is 
speaking.  But  as  then  I,  an  old  man,  wrote  to  you,  who  are 
an  old  man,  on  the  subject  of  old  age ; so  in  this  book  I 
myself,  a most  sincere  friend,  have  written  to  a friend  on  the 
subject  of  friendship.  On  that  occasion  Cato  was  the  speaker, 
than  whom  there  was  no  one  at  that  time  older  or  wiser.  On 
this,  Laelius,  not  only  a wise  man  (for  so  he  has  been  con- 
sidered), and  one  pre-eminent  in  reputation  for  friendship, 
speaks  on  that  subject.  I would  wish  you  to  withdraw  your 
thoughts  a little  while  from  me,  and  fancy  that  Lselius  him- 
self is  speaking.  Caius  Fannius  and  Quintus  Mucius  come 
to  their  father-in-law  after  the  death  of  Africanus.  With 
these  the  discourse  begins.  Lselius  replies ; and  the  whole 
of  his  dissertation  regards  friendship,  which  in  reading  you 
will  discover  for  yourself. 

II.  Fannius.  Such  is  the  case,  dear  Lselius,  nor  was  there 
ever  a better  or  more  distinguished  man  than  Africanus. 
But  you  ought  to  consider  that  the  eyes  of  all  are  now  turned 
upon  you,  Lselius : you  alone  they  both  denominate  and 
believe  to  be  wise.  This  character  was  lately  bestowed  on 
M.  Cato : we  know  that  Lucius  Atilius,  among  our  fathers, 
was  entitled  a wise  man ; but  each  on  a different  and  pev 
culiar  account : Atilius,  because  he  was  considered  versed  in 
the  civil  law ; Cato,  because  he  had  experience  in  a variety 
of  subjects ; both  in  the  senate  and  in  the  forum  many  in- 
stances are  recorded  either  of  his  shrewd  forethought,  or 
persevering  action,  or  pointed  reply:  wherefore  he  already 
had,  as  it  were,  the  surname  of  wise  in  his  old  age.  While  of 
you  it  is  remarked  that  you  are  wise  in  a different  sense, 
not  only  by  nature  and  character,  but  further,  by  application 
and  learning;  and  not  as  the  vulgar,  but  as  the  learned 
designate  a wise  man,  such  as  was  none  in  all  Greece.  For 
as  to  those  who  are  called  the  seven  wise  men,  persons  who 
inquire  into  such  things  with  great  nicety  do  not  consider 
them  in  the  class  of  wise  men.  We  learn  that  at  Athens 
there  was  one  peculiarly  so,  and  that  he  was  even  pronounced 

against  their  cotemporaries  by  those  authors  whom  we  are  now  dis- 
posed to  consider  as  too  highly  estimated  by  our  own  cotemporaries  on 
tliat  very  account.” — Dr.  Brown’s  Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of  tho 
Mind,  lecture  xliv 


172 


CICERO  OIT  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  IL 


by  tbe  oracle  of  Apollo  the  wisest  of  men.^  This  is  the  kind 
of  wisdom  they  conceive  to  be  in  you,  that  you  consider 
every  thing  connected  with  you  to  rest  upon  yourself,  and 
consider  the  events  of  life  as  subordinate  to  virtue  therefore 
they  inquire  of  me  (I  believe  of  you  also,  Scsevola)  in  what 
manner  you  bear  the  death  of  Africanus.  And  the  rather 
so,  because  on  the  last  nones,  when  we  had  come  into  the 
gardens  of  Decius  Brutus  the  augur,  for  the  purpose  of  dis- 
cussion, as  our  practice  is,  you  were  not  present ; although 
you  were  accustomed  most  punctually  to  observe  that  day  and 
that  engagement. 

Sc^voLA.  It  is  true,  many  are  inquiring,  Caius  Laelius,  as 
has  been  asserted  by  Fannius.  But  for  my  part  I answer 
them  according  to  what  I have  remarked,  that  you  bear  with 
patience  the  grief  which  you  have  suffered,  by  the  death  of 
one  who  was  at  once  a very  distinguished  man,  and  a very 
dear  friend ; yet  that  you  could  not  forbear  being  distressed, 
nor  would  that  have  been  consistent  with  your  feelings  as 
a man.  And  with  regard  to  your  not  having  attended  last 
nones  at  our  assembly,  ill  health  was  the  cause,  and  not 
affliction. 

L^lius.  You  certainly  said  what  was  right,  Scaevola,  and 
agreeable  to  truth : for  neither  ought  I to  have  absented  my- 
self through  any  inconvenience  of  mine  from  that  duty  which 
I have  always  fulfilled  when  I was  well ; nor  by  any  chance 
do  I conceive  it  can  happen  to  a man  of  firmness  of  character, 
that  any  interruption  should  take  place  in  his  duty.  And  as 
for  you,  Fannius,  who  say  there  is  attributed  to  me  so  much 
merit,  as  I am  neither  conscious  of  nor  lay  claim  to,  you 
act  therein  like  a friend : but,  as  it  seems  to  me,  you  do  not 
form  a right  estimate  of  Cato;  for  either  there  never  has 
been  a wise  man,  which  I rather  think,  or  if  there  ever  was 
one,  he  was  the  man.  For  (to  omit  other  cases'^  consider  how 

1 Socrates.  See  Plato’s  defense  of  Socrates. 

2 “If  thou  must  needs  rule,  be  Zeno’s  king  and  enjoy  that  empire  which 
every  man  gives  himself.  He  who  is  thus  his  own  monarch  contentedly 
sways  the  scepter  of  himself,  not  envying  the  glory  of  crowned  heads  and 
Elohims  of  the  earth.  Could  the  world  unite  in  the  practice  of  that  de- 
spised train  of  virtues  which  the  divine  ethics  of  our  Saviour  have  so  in- 
culcated unto  us,  the  furious  face  of  things  must  disappear ; Eden  would 
be  yet  to  bo  found,  and  the  angels  might  look  down,  not  with  pity  but 
joy  upon  us.” — Sir  Thomas  Browne’s  Christian  Morals,  chap.  xix. 


CHAP.  III. 


CICEEO  OK  ERIEKDSHIP. 


173 


he  endured  the  loss  of  his  son ! I remember  the  instance  of 
Paullus,  and  witnessed  that  of  Gallus : but  theirs  was  in 
the  case  of  children ; but  Cato’s  is  that  of  a mature  and 
respected  man.  Wherefore  pause  before  you  prefer  to  Cato, 
even  him  whom  Apollo,  as  you  say,  pronounced  the  wisest  of 
men : for  the  deeds  of  the  one  are  praised,  but  only  the  say- 
ings of  the  other.  Concerning  myself,  however  (for  I would 
now  address  you  both),  entertain  the  following  sentiments. 

III.  Should  I say  that  I am  not  distressed  by  the  loss  of 
Scipio,  philosophers  may  determine  with  what  propriety  I 
should  do  so ; but  assuredly  I should  be  guilty  of  falsehood. 
For  I am  distressed  at  being  bereaved  of  such  a friend,  as  no 
one,  I consider,  will  ever  be  to  me  again,  and,  as  I can  con- 
fidently assert,  no  one  ever  was : but  I am  not  destitute  of  a 
remedy.  I comfort  myself,  and  especially  with  this  consola- 
tion, that  I am  free  from  that  error  by  which  most  men,  on 
the  decease  of  friends,  are  wont  to  be  tormented : for  I feel 
that  no  evil  has  happened  to  Scipio ; it  has  befallen  myself, 
if  indeed  it  has  happened  to  any.  Kow  to  be  above  measure 
distressed  at  one’s  own  troubles,  is  characteristic  of  the  man 
who  loves  not  his  friend,  but  himself.  In  truth,  as  far  as  he 
is  concerned,  who  can  deny  that  his  end  was  glorious  ? for 
unless  he  had  chosen  to  wish  for  immortality,  of  which  he 
had  not  the  slightest  thought,  what  did  he  fail  to  obtain 
which  it  was  lawful  for  a man  to  wish  for  ? A man  who,  as 
soon  as  he  grew  up,  by  his  transcendent  merit  far  surpassed 
those  sanguine  hopes  of  his  countrymen  which  they  had  con- 
ceived regarding  him  when  a mere  boy,  who  never  stood  for 
the  consulship,  yet  was  made  consul  twice ; on  the  first  occasion 
before  his  time ; on  the  second,  at  the  proper  age  as  regarded 
himself,  though  for  the  commonwealth  almost  too  late ; who, 
by  overthrowing  two  cities,^  most  hostile  to  our  empire,  put 
an  end,  not  only  to  all  present,  but  all  future  wars.  What  shall 
I say  of  his  most  engaging  manners ; of  his  dutiful  conduct  to 
his  mother ; his  generosity  to  his  sisters ; his  kindness  to  his 
friends ; his  uprightness  toward  all  ? These  are  known  to 
you : and  how  dear  he  was  to  the  state,  was  displayed  by  its 
mourning  at  his  death.  How,  therefore,  could  the  accession 

1 Carthage  was  destroyed  by  Scipio,  the  second  Africanus,  B.c.  141 ; 
and  Kumantia,  a town  of  Spain,  B.c.  133.  From  the  latter  exploit  ho 
obtained  the  surname  of  Kumantinus. 


174 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  IIL 


of  a few  years  have  benefited  such  a man?  For  although 
old  age  is  not  burdensome  (as  I recollect  Cato  asserted,  in  con- 
versation with  myself  and  Scipio  the  year  before  he  died), 
yet  it  takes  away  that  freshness  which  Scipio  even  yet  pos- 
sessed. AVherefore  his  life  was  such  that  nothing  could  be 
added  to  it,  either  in  respect  of  good  fortune  or  of  glory : 
moreover,  the  very  suddenness  of  his  death  took  away  the 
consciousness  of  it.  On  which  kind  of  death  it  is  difiicult 
to  pronounce  : what  men  conjecture,  you  yourselves  know.* 
However,  this  we  may  assert  with  truth,  that  of  the  many 
most  glorious  and  joyous  days  which  P.  Scipio  witnessed  in 
the  course  of  his  life,  that  day  was  the  most  glorious  when, 
on  the  breaking  up  of  the  senate,  he  was  escorted  home  in  the 
evening  by  the  conscript  fathers,  by  the  allies  of  the  Roman 
people,  and  the  Latins,  the  day  before  he  died ; so  that  from  so 
high  a position  of  dignity  he  may  seem  to  have  passed  to 
the  gods  above  rather  than  to  those  below.  Nor  do  I agree 
with  those  who  have  lately  begun  to  assert  this  opinion, 
that  the  soul  also  dies  simultaneously  with  the  body,  and  that 
all  things  are  annihilated  by  death.^ 

1 “ Certainly  the  stoics  bestowed  too  much  cost  upon  death,  and  by 
their  great  preparations  made  it  appear  more  fearful.  Better,  saith  he, 
‘ qui  finem  vitae  extremum  inter  munera  ponat  naturae.’  It  is  as  natural 
to  die  as  to  be  born,  and  to  a little  infant,  perhaps,  the  one  is  as  painful 
as  the  other.  He  that  dies  in  an  earnest  pursuit  is  like  one  that  is 
wounded  in  hot  blood,  who  for  the  time  scarce  feels  the  hurt ; and  there- 
fore a mind  fixed  and  bent  upon  something  that  is  good  doth  avert  the 
dolors  of  death ; but  above  all  believe  it  the  sweetest  canticle  is,  ‘ nunc 
dimittis,’  when  a man  hath  obtained  worth,  ends,  and  expectations. 
Death  hath  this  also,  that  it  openeth  the  gate  to  good  fame  and  extin- 
guisheth  envy;  ‘ extinctus  amahitur  idem.’  ” — ^Lord  Bacon,  Essay  ii. 

2 Ever  since  the  time  of  Cicero  the  subject  of  the  immortality  of  the 
soul  has  been  incessantly  discussed ; by  some  as  a conclusion  of  natural 
religion,  by  others  as  a doctrine  of  revelation.  The  following  summary 
of  the  argument  is  given  by  Dugald  Stewart  in  the  second  part  of  his 
Outlines  of  Moral  Philosophy,  cap.  ii.  sec.  1.  The  reasons  he  here  states 
without  any  illustration  for  believing  the  doctrine  of  a future  state,  are 
the  following: 

“ 1.  The  natural  desire  of  immortality,  and  the  anticipations  of  futurity 
inspired  by  hope. 

“ 2.  The  natural  apprehensions  of  the  mind  when  under  the  infiuence 
of  remorse. 

“3.  The  exact  accommodation  of  the  condition  of  the  lower  animals  to 
their  instincts  and  to  their  sensitive  powers,  contrasted  with  the  unsuit- 
ableness of  the  present  state  of  things  to  the  intellectual  faculties  of  man  j 


-THAP.  IT, 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


175 


ly.  The  authority  of  the  ancients  has  more  weight  with  me, 
either  that  of  our  own  ancestors,  who  paid  such  sacred  honors 
to  the  dead  which  surely  they  would  not  have  done  if  they 
thought  these  honors  did  in  no  way  affect  them ; or  that  of 
those  who  once  lived  in  this  country,  and  enlightened,  by  their 
institutions  and  instructions,  Magna  Grsecia  (which  now 
indeed  is  entirely  destroyed,  but  then  was  flourishing);  or 
of  him  who  was  pronounced  by  the  oracle  of  Apollo  to  be  the 
wisest  of  men,  who  did  not  say  first  one  thing  and  then 
another,  as  is  generally  done,  but  always  the  same ; namely, 

to  his  capacities  of  enjoyment,  and  to  the  conceptions  of  happiness  and 
of  perfection  which  he  is  able  to  form. 

“4.  The  foundation  which  is  laid  in  the  principles  of  our  constitution 
for  a progressive  and  an  unlimited  improvement. 

“ 5.  The  information  we  are  rendered  capable  of  acquiring  concerning 
the  more  remote  parts  of  the  universe ; the  unlimited  range  which  is 
opened  to  the  human  imagination  through  the  immensity  of  space  and 
of  time,  and  the  ideas,  however  imperfect,  which  philosophy  affords  us 
of  the  existence  and  attributes  of  an  overruling  mind — acquisitions  for 
v/hich  an  obvious  final  cause  maybe  traced  on  the  supposition  of  a future 
state,  but  which  if  that  supposition  be  rejected,  could  have  no  other  effect 
than  to  make  the  business  of  life  appear  unworthy  of  our  regard. 

“ 6.  The  tendency  of  the  infirmities  of  age,  and  of  the  pains  of  disease 
to  strengthen  and  confirm  our  moral  habits,  and  the  difficulty  of  account- 
ing upon  the  hypothesis  of  annihilation  for  those  sufferings  which  com- 
monly put  a period  to  the  existence  of  man. 

“ t.  The  discordance  between  our  moral  judgments  and  feelings  and 
the  course  of  human  affairs. 

“ 8.  The  analogy  of  the  material  world,  in  some  parts  of  which  the 
most  complete  and  the  most  systematical  order  may  be  traced ; and  of 
which  our  views  always  become  the  more  satisfactory  the  wider  our 
knowledge  extends.  It  is  the  supposition  of  a future  state  alone  that 
can  furnish  a key  to  the  present  disorders  of  the  moral  world ; and  with- 
out it  many  of  the  most  striking  phenomena  of  human  life  must  remain 
forever  inexplicable. 

“ 9.  The  inconsistency  of  supposing  that  the  moral  laws  which  regulate 
the  course  of  human  a.ffairs  have  no  reference  to  any  thing  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  present  scene  ; when  all  the  bodies  which  compose  the  vis- 
ible universe  appear  to  be  related  to  each  other,  as  parts  of  one  great 
physical  system. 

“ Of  the  different  considerations  now  mentioned,  there  is  not  one  per- 
haps which,  taken  singly,  would  be  sufficient  to  establish  the  truth  they 
are  brought  to  prove,  but  taken  in  conjunction,  their  force  appears  irre- 
sistible. They  not  only  all  terminate  in  the  same  conclusion,  but  they 
mutually  reflect  light  on  each  other;  and  they  hare  that  sort  of  con- 
sistency and  connection  among  themselves  which  could  hardly  be  sup- 
posed to  take  place  among  a series  of  false  propositions.’* 


176 


CICERO  ON  ERIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  lY. 


that  the  souls  of  men  are  divine,  and  that  when  they  have  de- 
parted from  the  body,  a return  to  heaven  is  opened  to  them, 
and  the  speediest  to  the  most  virtuous  and  just.^  Which  same 
opinion  was  also  held  by  Scipio  ; for  he  indeed,  a very  few  days 
before  his  death,  as  if  he  had  a presentiment  of  it,  when  Philus 
and  Manilius  were  present,  and  many  others,  and  you  also, 

^ So  striking  is  tlio  resemblance  between  the  religious  tenets  of  Cicero 
and  those  of  modern  philosophy,  corrected  by  a divine  revelation,  that 
it  is  difficult  to  suppose  that  they  should  have  originated  in  his  own  re- 
flections, unaided  by  any  light  derived  through  the  medium  of  tradition 
or  report.  The  idea  contained  in  this  passage  we  find  reproduced,  with 
little  modification,  in  the  seventeenth  and  nineteenth  centuries,  by  a 
moralist  and  ethical  philosopher,  neither  of  whom  was  at  all  hkely  to 
derive  his  opinions  on  such  a subject  from  the  writings  of  Cicero.  By 
giving  the  former  passage  entire,  I may  perhaps  lead  the  reader  to  be- 
lieve that  Sir  Thomas  Browne  has  added  nothing  to  the  conceptions  of 
Cicero  touching  the  immortality  of  the  soul  but  superstition  and  folly. 
“ I believe,”  he  says,  “ that  the  whole  frame  of  a beast  doth  perish,  and 
is  left  in  the  same  state  after  death  as  before  it  was  materialed  into  life ; 
that  the  souls  of  men  know  neither  contrary  or  corruption ; that  they 
subsist  beyond  the  body,  and  outlive  death  by  the  privilege  of  their 
proper  natures,  and  without  a miracle ; that  the  souls  of  the  faithful,  as 
they  leave  earth,  take  possession  of  heaven ; that  those  apparitions  and 
glmsts  of  departed  persons  are  not  the  wandering  souls  of  men,  but  the 
unquiet  walks  of  devils,  prompting  and  suggesting  us  unto  mischief) 
blood  and  villainy  instilling,  and  stealing  into  our  hearts ; that  the  bless- 
ed spirits  are  not  at  rest  in  their  graves,  but  wander  solicitous  of  the  af- 
fairs of  the  world ; that  these  phantasms  appear  often,  and  do  frequent 
cemeteries,  charnel-houses,  and  churches;  it  is  because  these  are  the 
dormitories  of  the  dead  where  the  devil,  like  an  insolent  champion,  be- 
holds with  pride  the  spoils  and  trophies  of  his  victory  in  Adam.” — Re- 
ligio  Medici,  chap,  xxxvii. 

“ We  have,”  says  Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  “therefore  to  conceive  the  mind 
at  death  matured  by  experience,  and  nobler  than  it  was  when  the  Deity 
permitted  it  to  exist ; and  the  Deity  himself)  with  aU  those  gracious  feel- 
ings of  love  to  man  which  the  adaption  of  human  nature  to  its  human 
scene  displays,  and  in  these  very  circumstances,  if  we  affirm  without  any 
other  proof  the  annihilation  of  the  mind,  we  are  to  find  a reason  for  this 
annihilation.  If  even  we  in  such  a moment,  abstracting  from  all  selfish 
considerations,  would  feel  it  a sort  of  crime  to  destroy,  with  no  other 
view  than  that  of  the  mere  destruction  what  was  more  worthy  of  love 
than  in  years  of  earlier  being,  are  we  to  believe  that  he  who  loves  what 
is  noble  in  man  more  than  our  frail  heart  can  love  it,  will  regard  the  im- 
provements only  as  a signal  of  destruction  ? Is  it  not  more  consonant 
to  the  goodness  of  him  who  has  rendered  improvement  progressive  here, 
that  in  separating  the  mind  from  its  bodily  frame,  he  separates  it  to  ad- 
mit it  into  scenes  in  which  the  progress  begun  on  earth  may  bo  con- 
tinued with  increasing  fiicility.” — Lecture  xevi. 


CHAP.  IV, 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


177 


Scaevola,  had  gone  with  me,  for  three  days  descanted  on  the 
subject  of  government : of  which  discussion  the  last  was 
almost  entirely  on  the  immortality  of  souls,  which  he  said  he 
had  learned  in  sleep  through  a vision  from  Africanus.  If 
this  be  the  fact,  that  the  spirit  of  the  best  man  most  easily 
flies  away  in  death,  as  from  the  prison-house  and  chains  of  the 
body;  whose  passage  to  the  gods  can  we  conceive  to  have 
been  readier  than  that  of  Scipio  ? Wherefore,  to  be  afflicted 
at  this  his  departure,  I fear,  would  be  the  part  rather  of  an 
envious  person  than  of  a friend.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
this  be  rather  the  truth,  that  the  death  of  the  soul  and  of  the 
body  is  one  and  the  same,  and  that  no  consciousness  remains ; 
as  there  is  no  advantage  in  death,  so  certainly  there  is  no 
evil.  For  when  consciousness  is  lost,  it  becomes  the  same 
as  if  he  had  never  been  born  at  all ; yet,  both  we  ourselves 
are  glad,  and  this  state,  as  long  as  it  shall  exist,  will  rejoice 
that  he  was  born.  Wlierefore  (as  I said  above)  with  him 
indeed  all  ended  well : with  myself,  less  happily  ; for  it  had 
been  more  equitable  that,  as  I entered  upon  life  first,  I should 
likewise  first  depart  from  it.  But  yet  I so  enjoy  the  recollec- 
tion of  our  friendship,  that  I seem  to  have  lived  happily  be- 
cause I lived  with  Scipio ; with  whom  I had  a common  anxiety 
on  public  and  private  afeiirs,  and  with  whom  my  life  both  at 
home  and  abroad  was  associated,  and  there  existed  that,  wherein 
consists  the  entire  strength  of  friendship,  an  entire  agreement 
of  inclinations,  pursuits,  and  sentiments.^  That  character  for 
wisdom,  therefore,  which  Fannius  a little  while  ago  mentioned, 
does  not  so  delight  me,  especially  since  it  is  undeserved,  as  the 
hope  that  the  recollection  of  our  friendship  will  last  forever. 
And  it  is  the  more  gratifying  to  me,  because  scarcely  in  the 
history  of  the  world  are  three  or  four  pairs  of  fiiends  men- 
tioned by  name  ; ^ and  I indulge  in  the  hope  that  the  friendship 
of  Scipio  and  Laelius  will  be  known  to  posterity  in  this  class. — 
Fannius.  Indeed,  Lselius,  that  must  be  so.  But  since  you 

1 “ The  consideration  of  moral  worth  will  always  enter  deeply  into  the 
1 motives  which  actuate  wise  and  good  men  in  their  choice  of  friends ; but 
it  is  far  from  constituting  the  only  one ; a certain  congeniality  of  mind 
and  manners,  aided  by  the  operation  of  adventitious  circumstances,  con- 
tributes a principal  share  toward  the  formation  of  such  unions.” — Robert 
Hall’s  Funeral  Sermon  for  Dr.  Ryland. 

2 Orestes  and  Pylades,  Damon  and  Pythias,  Nisus  and  Eurvalus,  are 
the  most  famous  pairs  of  friends  recorded  in  ancient  history. 


178 


CICEKO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  Y. 


have  made  mention  of  friendship,  and  as  we  have  leisure,  you 
will  do  what  is  very  agreeable  to  me  (I  hope  also  to  Scaevola), 
if,  as  your  custom  is  concerning  other  matters  when  your 
opinion  of  them  is  asked,  so  you  would  descant  on  friendship, 
[telling  us]  what  is  your  opinion,  of  w^hat  nature  you  consider 
it  to  be,  and  what  direction  you  would  lay  down. — Sc^vola. 
To  me  it  will  be  exceedingly  agreeable ; and  in  fact,  when  I 
was  endeavoring  to  prevail  with  you,  Fannius  anticipated  me : 
wherefore  you  will  confer  a very  great  favor  on  both  of  us. 

V.  L^lius.  I indeed  should  not  object,  if  I could  feel 
confidence  in  myself ; for  not  only  is  the  subject  a splendid 
one,  but  we,  as  Fannius  said,  have  nothing  to  do.  But  who 
am  I ? or  what  ability  is  there  in  me  for  this  ? This  is  the 
practice  of  scholars,  and  of  Grecian  scholars,  that  a subject 
be  given  them  on  which  they  are  to  dispute,  however 
suddenly.  It  is  a great  undertaking,  and  requires  no  little 
practice.  Wherefore,  as  to  what  may  be  said  on  the  subject 
of  friendship,  I recommend  you  to  seek  it  from  those  who  pro- 
fess such  things.^  I can  only  urge  you  to  prefer  friendship 
to  all  human  possessions ; for  there  is  nothing  so  suited  to 
our  nature,  so  well  adapted  to  prosperity  or  adversity.  But 
first  of  all,  I am  of  opinion,  that  except  among  the  virtuous, 
friendship  can  not  exist : I do  not  analyze  this  principle  too 
closely,  as  they  do  who  inquire  wdth  too  great  nicety  into  those 
things,  perhaps  with  truth  on  their  side,  but  with  little  gen- 
eral advantage ; for  they  maintain  that  there  is  no  good 
man  but  the  wise  man.  Be  it  so  ; yet  they  define  wisdom  to 
be  such  as  no  mortal  has  ever  attained  to  : whereas  we  ought  to 
contemplate  those  things  which  exist  in  practice  and  in 
common  life,  and  not  the  subjects  of  fictions  or  of  our  own 
wishes.  I would  never  pretend  to  say  that  Gains  Fabricius, 
Marius  Curius,  and  Titus  Coruncanius,  whom  our  ancestors 
esteemed  wise,  were  wise  according  to  the  standard  of  these 
moralists.  Wherefore  let  them  keep  to  themselves  the  name 
of  wisdom,  both  invidious  and  unintelligible ; and  let  them 
allow  that  these  were  good  men — nay,  they  will  not  even  do 
that ; they  will  declare  that  this  can  not  be  granted  except  to 
a wise  man.  Let  us  therefore  proceed  with  all  our  dull  genius, 
as  they  say.  Those  who  so  conduct  themselves,  and  so  live 

1 The  Greek  sophists,  like  the  modern  Italians,  professed  to  improvise 
on  any  given  subject.  See  Plato’s  Gorgias,  Protagoras,  etc- 


CHAP.  V. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


179 


that  their  honor,  their  integrity,  their  justice,  and . liberality 
are  approved  ; so  that  there  is  not  in  them  any  covetousness, 
or  licentiousness,  or  boldness ; and  that  they  are  of  great 
consistency,  as  those  men  whom  I have  mentioned  above  ; — 
let  us  consider  these  worthy  of  the  appellation  of  good  men, 
as  they  have  been  accounted  such,  because  they  follow  (as  far 
as  men  are  able)  nature,  which  is  the  best  guide  of  a good 
life.^  For  I seem  to  myself  to  have  this  view,  that  we  are 

^ “A  person  when  he  speaks  of  Nature,  should  know  distinctly  what 
he  means.  The  word  carries  with  it  a sort  of  intermediate  authority ; 
and  he  who  uses  it  amiss,  may  connect  that  authority  with  rules  and 
actions  which  are  little  entitled  to  it.  There  are  few  senses  in  which 
the  word  is  used  that  do  not  refer,  however  obscurely,  to  God ; and  it  is 
for  that  reason  that  the  notion  of  authority  is  connected  with  the  word. 
‘The  very  name  of  Nature  implies  that  it  must  owe  its  birth  to  some 
prior  agent,  or,  to  speak  properly,  signifies  in  itself  nothing.’  Milton, 
Christ.  Doct.  p.  14.  Yet,  unmeaning  as  the  term  is,  it  is  one  of  which 
many  persons  are  very  fond,  whether  it  be  that  their  notions  are  really 
indistinct,  or  that  some  purposes  are  answered  by  referring  to  the  obscu- 
rity of  Nature  rather  than  to  God.  ‘ Nature  has  decorated  the  earth 
with  beauty  and  magnificence,’  ‘ Nature  has  furnished  us  with  joints  and 
limbs,’  are  phrases  sufficiently  unmeaning,  and  yet  I know  not  that  they 
are  likely  to  do  any  other  harm  than  to  give  currency  to  the  common 
fiction.  But  when  it  is  said  that  ‘ Nature  teaches  us  to  adhere  to  truth,’ 
‘Nature  condemns  us  for  dishonesty  or  deceit,’  ‘Men  are  taught  by 
Nature  that  they  are  responsible  beings,’  there  is  considerable  danger 
that  we  have  both  fallacious  and  injurious  notions  of  the  authority  which 
thus  teaches  or  condemns  us  upon  this  subject,  it  were  well  to  take  the 
advice  of  Boyle : — ‘Nature,’ he  says,  ‘is  sometimes  indeed  commonly 
taken  for  a kind  of  semi-deity.  In  this  sense  it  is  best  not  to  use  it  at 
all.’  (See  Inquiry  into  the  vulgarly  received  notions  of  Nature).  It  is 
dangerous  to  induce  confusion  into  our  ideas  respecting  our  relationship 
with  God. 

“ A law  of  nature  is  a very  imposing  phrase;  and  it  might  be  suppos- 
ed, from  the  language  of  some  persons,  that  nature  was  an  independent 
legislatress,  who  had  sat  and  framed  laws  for  the  government  of  man- 
kind. Nature  is  nothing ; yet  it  would  seem  that  men  do  sometimes 
practically  imagine  that  a ‘ law  of  nature’  possesses  proper  and  independ- 
ent authority ; and  it  may  be  suspected  that  with  some,  the  notion  is 
so  palpable  and  strong  that  they  set  up  the  authority  of  ‘ the  law  of 
nature’  without  reference  to  the  will  of  God,  or  perhaps  in  opposition  to 
it.  Even  if  notions  like  these  float  in  the  mind  only  with  vapory  indis- 
tinctness, a correspondent  indistinctness  of  moral  notions  is  likely  to  en- 
sue. Every  man  should  make  to  himself  the  rule  never  to  employ  tho 
word  nature  when  he  speaks  of  ultimate  moral  authority.  A law  possesses 
no  authority ; the  authority  rests  only  in  the  legislator,  and  as  nature 
makes  no  laws,  a law  of  nature  involves  no  obligation  but  that  which  is 
imposed  by  the  Divine  will.” — Dymond’s  Essays,  Essay  I.  chapter  ii. 


180 


CICERO  ON  ERIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  VI. 


SO  formed  by  nature,  that  there  should  be  a certain  social 
tie  among  all ; stronger,  however,  as  each  approaches  nearer 
to  us.  Accordingly,  citizens  are  preferable  to  foreigners, 
and  relations  to  strangers  ; for  with  the  latter,  nature  her- 
self has  created  a friendly  feeling,  though  this  has  not  suf- 
ficient strength.  For  in  this  respect  friendship  is  superior 
to  relationship,  because  from  relationship  benevolence  can  be 
withdrawn,  and  from  friendship  it  can  not : for  with  the  with- 
drawal of  benevolence  the  very  name  of  friendship  is  done 
away,  wdiile  that  of  relationship  remains.  Now  how  great  the 
power  of  friendship  is,  may  be  best  gathered  from  this  consid- 
eration, that  out  of  the  boundless  society  of  the  human  race, 
which  nature  herself  has  joined  together,  friendship  is  a matter 
so  contracted,  and  brought  into  so  narrow  a compass,  that  the 
whole  of  affection  is  confined  to  two,  or  at  any  rate  to  very 
few. 

YI.  Now  friendship  is  nothing  else  than  a complete  union 
of  feeling  on  all  subjects,  divine  and  human,  accompanied  by 
kindly  feeling  and  attachment ; than  which,  indeed,  I am  not 
aware  whether,  with  the  exception  of  wisdom,  any  thing 
better  has  been  bestowed  on  man  by  the  immortal  gods. 
Some  men  prefer  riches,  others  good  health,  others  influence, 
others  again  honors,  many  prefer  even  pleasures : the  last, 
indeed,  is  the  characteristic  of  beasts ; while  the  former  are 
fleeting  and  uncertain,  depending  not  so  much  on  our  own 
purpose,  as  on  the  fickleness  of  fortune.  Whereas  those  who 
place  the  supreme  good  in  virtue,  therein  do  admirably ; but 
this  very  virtue  itself  both  begets  and  constitutes  friendship  ; 
nor  without  this  virtue  can  friendship  exist  at  all.  Now  let 
us  define  this  virtue  according  to  the  usage  of  life,  and  of 
our  common  language  ; and  let  us  not  measure  it,  as  certain 
learned  persons  do,  by  pomp  of  language  ; and  let  us  include 
among  the  good  those  who  are  so  accounted — the  Paulli,  the 
. Catos,  the  Galli,  the  Scipios,  and  the  Phili ; with  these  men 
ordinary  life  is  content:  and  let  us  pass  over  those  who 
are  nowhere  found  to  exist.  Among  men  of  this  kind, 
therefore,  friendship  finds  facilities  so  great  that  I can 
scarcely  describe  them.  In  the  first  place — to  whom  can 
life  be  “ worth  living,”  as  Ennius  says,  who  does  not  repose 
on  the  mutual  kind  feeling  of  some  friend  ? What  can  bo 
more  delightful  than  to  have  one  to  whom  you  can  ^peak  on 


CHAP.  yil. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


181 


all  subjects  just  as  to  yourself  ? Where  would  be  the  great 
enjoyment  in  prosperity,  if  you  had  not  one  to  rejoice  in  it 
equally  with  yourself  ? And  adversity  would  indeed  be 
difficult  to  endure,  without  some  one  who  would  bear  it  even 
with  greater  regret  than  yourself.  In  short,  all  other  objects 
that  are  sought  after,  are  severally  suited  to  some  one  single 
purpose : riches,  that  you  may  spend  them ; power,  that  you 
may  be  courted ; honors,  that  you  may  be  extolled ; 
pleasures,  that  you  may  enjoy  them ; good  health  that  you 
may  be  exempt  from  harm,  and  perform  the  functions  of  the 
body.  Whereas  friendship  comprises  the  greatest  number  of 
objects  possible : wherever  you  turn  yourself,  it  is  at  hand ; 
shut  out  of  no  place,  never  out  of  season,  never  irksome ; 
and  therefore  we  do  not  use  fire  and  water,  as  they  say,  on 
more  occasions  than  we  do  friendship.  And  I am  not  now 
speaking  of  common-place  or  ordinary  friendship  (though 
even  that  brings  delight  and  benefit),  but  of  real  and  true 
friendship,  such  as  belonged  to  those  of  whom  very  few  arc 
recorded ; for  prosperity  friendship  renders  more  brilliant ; 
and  adversity  more  supportable,  by  dividing  and  communi- 
cating it.”  ^ 

VII.  And  while  friendship  embraces  very  many  and  great 
advantages,  she  undoubtedly  surpasses  all  in  this,  that  she 
shines  with  a brilliant  hope  over  the  future,  and  never  suffers 
the  spirit  to  be  weakened  or  to  sink.  Besides,  he  who  looks 
on  a true  friend,  looks  as  it  were  upon  a kind  of  image  of 
himself:  wherefore  friends,  though  absent,  are  still  present; 

1 “ The  sympathies  of  virtuous  minds  when  not  warmed  by  the  breath 
of  friendship,  are  too  faint  and  cold  to  satisfy  the  social  cravings  of  our 
nature,  their  compassion  is  too  much  dissipated  by  the  multiplicity  of  its 
objects  and  the  varieties  of  distress  to  suffer  it  to  flow  long  in  one  channel, 
while  the  sentiments  of  congratulation  are  still  more  slight  and  superfi- 
cial. A transient  tear  of  pity,  or  a smile  of  complacency  equally  transient, 
is  all  we  can  usually  bestow  on  the  scenes  of  happiness  or  of  misery 
which  we  meet  with  in  the  paths  of  life.  But  man  naturally  seeks  for  a 
closer  union,  a more  permanent  conjunction  of  interests,  a more  intense 
reciprocation  of  feeling ; he  finds  the  want  of  one  or  more  with  whom  he 
can  trust  the  secrets  of  his  heart,  and  relieve  himself  by  imparting  the 
interior  joys  and  sorrows  with  which  every  human  breast  is  fraught.  He 
seeks,  in  short,  another  self,  a kindred  spirit  whose  interest  in  his  welfare 
bears  some  proportion  to  his  own,  with  whom  he  may  lessen  his  cares 
by  sympathy,  and  multiply  his  pleasures  by  participation.” — Hall’s  Fu- 
neral Sermon  for  Dr.  Ryland. 


182 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  VII. 


though  in  poverty,  they  are  rich ; though  weak,  jet  in  the 
enjoyment  of  health ; and,  what  is  still  more  difficult  to 
assert,  though  dead  they  are  alive ; so  entirely  does  the 
honor,  the  memory,  the  regret  of  friends  attend  them ; from 
which  circumstance,  the  death  of  the  one  seems  to  be  happy, 
and  the  life  of  the  other  praiseworthy;  nay,  should  you 
remove  from  nature  the  cement  of  kind  feelings,  neither  a 
house  nor  a city  will  be  able  to  stand ; even  the  cultivation 
of  the  land  will  not  continue.  If  it  be  not  clearly  perceived 
how  great  is  the  power  of  friendship  and  concord,  it  can  be  dis- 
tinctly inferred  from  quarrels  and  dissensions ; for  what  house 
is  there  so  established,  or  what  state  so  firmly  settled,  that  may 
not  utterly  be  overthrown  by  hatred  and  dissension  ? from 
'which  it  may  be  determined  how  much  advantage  there  is  in 
friendship.  They  relate,  indeed,  that  a certain  learned  man 
of  Agrigentum  ^ promulgated  in  Greek  verses  the  doctrine, 
that  all  things  which  cohere  throughout  the  whole  world,  and 
all  things  that  are  the  subjects  of  motion,  are  brought 
together  by  friendship,  and  are  dispelled  by  discord;  and 
this  principle  all  men  understand,  and  illustrate  by  their 
conduct.  Therefore,  if  at  any  time  any  act  of  a friend  has 
been  exhibited,  either  in  undergoing  or  in  sharing  dangers, 
who  is  there  that  does  not  extol  such  an  act  with  the  highest 
praise  ? What  shouts  of  applause  were  lately  heard  through 
the  whole  theater,  on  the  occasion  of  a new  play  by  my 
guest  and  friend,  Marcus  Pacmdus,  when  the  king,  being 
ignorant  which  of  them  was  Orestes,  Pylades  said  he  was 
Orestes,  that  he  might  be  put  to  death  instead  of  him ; but 
Orestes,  as  was  the  fact,  solemnly  maintained  that  he  was  the 
man  ? They  stood  up  and  applauded  in  an  imaginary  case ; 
what  must  we  suppose  they  would  have  done  in  a real  one. 
Nature  herself  excellently  asserted  her  rightful  power,  when 
men  pronounced  that  to  be  rightly  done  in  another,  which 
they  could  not  do  themselves.  Thus  far  I seem  to  have  been 
able  to  lay  down  what  are  my  sentiments  concerning  friend- 
ship. If  any  thing  remains  (and  I fancy  there  is  much),  ask 
of  those,  if  you  please,  who  practice  such  discussions. 

Fannius.  But  we  would  rather  hear  it  from  you ; although 

1 Empedocles,  a philosopher,  poet,  and  historian  of  Agrigentum  in 
Sicily,  who  flourished,  B.C.  444.  lie  wrote  a poem  on  the  doctrines  of 
Pythagoras. 


CHAP.  Tin. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


183 


1 have  often  asked  such  questions,  and  heard  their  opinions, 
and  that  not  without  satisfaction,  yet  what  we  desire  is  the 
somewhat  different  thread  of  your  discourse. — Sc^vola.  You 
would  say  so  still  more,  Fannius,  if  you  had  been  present 
lately  in  the  gardens  of  Scipio,  when  the  subject  of  Govern- 
ment was  discussed.  What  an  able  pleader  was  he  then  on 
the  side  of  justice  against  the  subtle  argument  of  Philus ! — 
Fannius.  Nay,  it  was  an  easy  task  for  the  most  just  of  men 
to  uphold  the  cause  of  justice. — Scjevola.  What  shall  we 
say  then  of  friendship  ? Would  it  not  be  easy  for  him  to 
eulogize  it,  who,  for  maintaining  it  with  the  utmost  fidelity, 
steadiness  and  integrity,  has  gained  the  highest  glory  ? 

VIII.  L^lius.  Why,  this  is  using  force  against  one : for 
wPat  matters  it  by  what  kind  of  request  you  compel  me  ? 
You  certainly  do  compel  me.  For  to  oppose  the  wishes  of 
one’s  sons-in-law,  especially  in  a good  matter,  is  not  only 
hard,  but  it  is  not  even  just.  After  very  often,  then,  reflect- 
ing on  the  subject  of  friendship,  this  question  seems  to  me 
especially  worthy  of  consideration,  whether  friendship  has 
become  an  object  of  desire,  on  account  of  weakness  or  w^ant, 
so  that  by  giving  and  receiving  favors,  each  may  receive 
from  another,  and  mutually  repay,  what  he  is  himself  in- 
capable of  acquiring.  Or  whether  this  is  only  a property  of 
friendship ; while  there  is  another  cause,  higher  and  nobler 
and  more  directly  derived  from  nature  herself?  For  love 
(from  which  friendship  takes  its  name)  is  the  main  motive  for 
the  union  of  kind  feelings : for  advantages  truly  are  often 
derived  from  those  who  are  courted  under  a pretense  of 
friendship,  and  have  attention  paid  them  for  a temporary 
purpose.  In  friendship  there  is  nothing  false,  and  nothing 
pretended;  and  whatever  belongs  to  it  is  sincere  and  spon- 
taneous. Wherefore  friendship  seems  to  me  to  have  sprung 
rather  from  nature  than  from  a sense  of  want,  and  more  from 
an  attachment  of  the  mind  with  a certain  feeling  of  affection, 
than  from  a calculation  how  much  advantage  it  would  afford. 
And  of  what  nature  indeed  it  is,  may  be  observed  in  the 
case  of  certain  beasts ; for  they  love  their  offspring  up  to  a 
certain  time,  and  are  loved  by  them  in  such  a way  that  their 
emotions  are  easily  discovered.  And  this  is  much  more  evi- 
dent in  man.  In  the  first  place,  from  that  affection  which 
subsists  between  children  and  parents,  which  can  not  bo  de- 


184 


CICERO  OX  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  IX. 


stroyed  without  detestable  wickedness  : next,  where  a similar 
feeling  of  love  has  existed,  if  we  have  met  with  any  one  with 
whose  character  and  disposition  we  sympathize,  because  we 
appear  to  discover  in  him  a certain  etfulgence  as  it  were  of 
integrity  and  virtue.  For  nothing  is  more  amiable  than  virtue, 
nothing  which  more  strongly  allures  us  to  love  it,  seeing  that 
because  of  their  virtue  and  integrity  we  can  in  a certain 
degree  love  those  whom  we  have  never  seen.  Who  can 
mention  the  name  of  Caius  Fabricius,  and  Marius  Curius, 
otherwise  than  with  love  and  affection,  though  he  never  saw 
them  ? Who  can  forbear  hating  Tarquinius  Superbus,  Spurius 
Cassius,  and  Spurius  Mselius  ? Against  two  generals  we  had 
a struggle  for  empire  in  Italy,  I mean  Pyrrhus  and  Hannibal ; 
toward  the  former,  on  account  of  his  honorable  conduct, 
we  bear  not  a very  hostile  disposition ; while  this  state  will 
always  detest  the  latter  for  his  cruelty. 

IX.  Now  if  such  be  the  influence  of  integrity,  that  we 
love  it  even  in  those  whom  we  have  never  seen,  and,  what  is 
much  more,  even  in  an  enemy,  what  wonder  if  men’s  feelings 
are  affected  when  they  seem  to  discover  the  goodness  and 
virtue  of  those  with  whom  they  may  become  connected  by 
intercourse  ? although  love  is  confirmed  by  the  reception  of 
kindness,  and  by  the  discovery  of  an  earnest  sympathy,  and 
by  close  familiarity ; which  things  being  added  to  the  first 
emotion  of  the  mind  and  the  affections,  there  is  kindled  a large 
amount  of  kindly  feeling.  And  if  any  imagine  that  this 
proceeds  from  a sense  of  weakness,  so  that  there  shall  be 
secured  a friend,  by  whom  a man  may  obtain  that  which  he 
wants,  they  leave  to  friendship  a mean  indeed,  and,  if  I may 
so  speak,  any  thing  but  respectable  origin,  when  they  make 
her  to  be  born  of  indigence  and  want;  were  this  the  case, 
then  in  joroportion  as  a man  judged  that  there  were  the  least 
lesources  in  himself,  precisely  in  that  degree  would  he  be  best 
qualified  for  friendship : whereas  the  fact  is  far  otherwise. 
For  just  as  a man  has  most  confidence  in  himself,  and  as  he 
is  most  completely  fortified  by  worth  and  wisdom,  so  that  he 
needs  no  one’s  assistance,  and  feels  that  all  his  resources 
reside  in  himself ; in  the  same  proportion  he  is  most  highly 
distinguished  for  seeking  out  and  forming  friendships.  For 
what  did  Africanus  want  of  me  ? nothing  whatever ; nor 
indeed  did  I need  aught  from  him : but  I loved  him  from 


CHAP.  X. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


185 


admiration  of  his  excellence;  lie  in  turn  perhaps  was  at- 
tached to  me  from  some  high  opinion  which  he  entertained 
of  my  character,  and  association  fostered  our  affection.  But 
although  many  and  great  advantages  ensued,  yet  it  was 
not  from  any  hope  of  these  that  the  cause  of  our  attachment 
sprang : for  as  we  are  beneficent  and  liberal,  not  to  exact 
favor  in  return  (for  we  are  not  usurers  in  kind  actions),  but 
by  nature  are  inclined  to  liberality,  thus  I think  that  friend- 
ship is  to  be  desired,  not  attracted  by  the  hope  of  reward,  but 
because  the  whole  of  its  profit  consists  in  love  only.  From 
such  opinions,  they  who,  after  the  fashion  of  beasts,  refer 
every  thing  to  pleasure,  widely  differ : and  no  great  wonder, 
since  they  can  not  look  up  to  any  thing  lofty,  magnificent, 
or  divine  who  cast  all  their  thoughts  on  an  object  so  mean 
and  contemptible.  Therefore  let  us  exclude  such  persons 
altogether  from  our  discourse ; and  let  us  ourselves  hold  this 
opinion,  that  the  sentiment  of  loving,  and  the  attachment  of 
kind  feelings,  are  produced  by  nature,  when  the  evidence  of 
virtue  has  been  established ; and  they  who  have  eagerly  sought 
the  latter,  draw  nigh  and  attach  themselves  to  it,  that  they 
may  enjoy  the  friendship  and  character  of  the  individual  they 
have  begun  to  love,  and  that  they  may  be  commensurate  and 
equal  in  affection,  and  more  inclined  to  confer  a favor  than 
to  claim  any  return.  And  let  this  honorable  struggle  be 
maintained  between  them : so  not  only  will  the  greatest 
advantages  be  derived  from  friendship,  but  its  origin  from 
nature  rather  than  from  a sense  of  weakness,  will  be  at  once 
more  impressive  and  more  true.  For  if  it  were  expediency 
that  cemented  friendships,  the  same  when  changed  would 
dissolve  them ; but  because  nature  can  never  change,  there- 
fore true  friendships  are  eternal.  Thus  you  see  the  origin 
of  friendship,  unless  you  wish  to  make  some  reply  to  these 
views.  — Fannius.  Nay,  go  on,  Lselius,  for  I answer  for 
Scsevola  here  (who  is  my  junior)  on  my  own  authority. — 
SciEvoLA.  You  do  right ; wherefore  let  us  attend. 

X.  L^lius.  Listen,  then,  my  excellent  friends,  to  the  dis- 
cussion which  was  very  frequently  held  by  me  and  Scipio 
on  the  subject  of  friendship ; although  he  indeed  used  to  say 
that  nothing  was  more  difficult  than  that  friendship  should 
continue  to  the  end  of  life ; for  it  often  happened,  either  that 
the  same  course  was  not  expedient  to  both  parties,  or  that 


186 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XI. 


they  held  different  views  of  politics  : he  also  remarked  that 
the  characters  of  men  often  changed;  in  some  cases  by 
adversity,  in  others  by  old  age  becoming  oppressive ; and  he 
derived  an  authority  for  such  notions  from  a comparison  with 
early  life,  because  the  strongest  attachment  of  boys  are  con- 
stantly laid  aside  with  the  prsetexta ; even  if  they  should  main- 
tain it  to  manhood,  yet  sometimes  it  is  broken  off  by  rivalry, 
for  a dowried  wife,  or  some  other  advantage,  which  they 
can  not  both  attain.  And  even  if  men  should  be  carried  on 
still  further  in  their  friendship,  yet  that  feeling  is  often 
undermined,  should  they  fall  into  rivalry  for  preferments; 
for  there  is  no  greater  enemy  to  friendship  than  covet- 
ousness of  money,  in  most  men,  and  even  in  the  best,  an 
emulous  desire  of  high  offices  and  glory ; in  consequence  of 
which  the  most  bitter  enmities  have  often  arisen  between  the 
dearest  friends.  For  great  dissensions,  and  those  in  most 
instances,  justifiable,  arise,  when  some  request  is  made  of 
friends  which  is  improper ; as,  for  instance,  that  they  should 
become  either  the  ministers  of  their  lust  or  their  supporters 
in  the  perpetration  of  wrong ; and  they  who  refuse  to  do  so, 
it  matters  not  however  virtuously,  yet  are  accused  of  dis- 
carding the  claims  of  friendship  by  those  persons  whom  they 
are  unwilling  to  oblige  ; but  they  who  dare  to  ask  any  thing 
of  a friend,  by  their  very  request  seem  to  imply  that  they 
would  do  any  thing  for  the  sake  of  that  friend ; by  the  com- 
plaining of  such  persons,  not  only  are  long-established 
intimacies  put  an  end  to,  but  endless  animosities  are  engen- 
dered. All  these  many  causes,  like  so  many  fatalities,  are 
ever  threatening  friendship,  so  that  he  said,  to  escape  them 
all,  seemed  to  him  a proof  not  merely  of  wisdom,  but  even  of 
good  fortune. 

XL  Wherefore  let  us  first  consider  if  you  please,  how 
far  love  ought  to  proceed  in  friendship.  If  Coriolanus  had 
fi'iends,  were  they  bound  to  carry  arms  against  their  country 
with  Coriolanus  ? Were  their  friends  bound  to  support 
Viscellinus  or  Spurius  Mselius  when  they  aimed  at  the 
sovereignty?  Nay,  in  the  case  of  Tiberius  Gracchus,  when 
disturbing  the  commonwealth,  we  saw  him  totally  abandoned 
by  Quintus  Tubero,  and  other  friends  of  his  own  standing. 
But  in  the  case  of  Caius  Blossius,  of  Cumae,  the  fiiend  of 
our  family,  Scaevola,  when  he  had  come  to  me  (then  attend- 


CHAP.  XI. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


187 


ing  upon  tlie  consuls  Lsenas  and  Eupilius  in  their  council)  to 
sue  for  pardon,  he  brought  forward  his  plea,  that  he  es- 
teemed Tiberius  Gracchus  so  highly  that  he  thought  it  his 
duty  to  do  whatever  he  wished.  So  I said,  “ What,  even  if  he 
wished  you  to  set  fire  to  the  capitol  “ He  never  would 
have  thought  of  that,”  he  replied.  “But  what  if  he  had?” 
“ Then  I would  have  complied.”  You  see  what  an  abominable 
speech : and,  by  Hercules,  he  did  so,  and  even  worse  than  he 
said;  for  he  did  not  follow  the  mad  schemes  of  Tiberius 
Gracchus,  but  in  fact  headed  them,  and  did  not  act  as  the 
accomplice  of  his  violence,  but  even  as  the  captain.  There- 
fore in  consequence  of  such  rashness,  being  terrified  by  a 
new  prosecution,  he  fled  precipitately  into  Asia,  joined  the 
enemy,  and  atoned  to  the  commowealth  by  a punishment 
just  and  severe.  It  is  no  excuse  therefore  for  a fault,  that 
you  committed  it  for  a friend’s  sake ; for  since  the  belief  in 
another’s  excellence  was  that  which  conciliated  friendship,  it 
is  hard  for  friendship  to  continue  when  you  have  apostatized 
from  virtue.  Now  if  we  shall  lay  it  down  as  right,  either  to 
concede  to  friends  whatever  they  wish,  or  to  obtain  from 
them  whatever  we  wish,  we  must  have  indeed  consummate 
wisdom,  if  such  a course  leads  to  no  vice.  But  we  are  speak- 
ing of  those  friends  who  are  before  our  eyes,  whom  we  see 
around  us,  or  else  whom  we  know  by  report,  and  with  whom 
every-day  life  is  familiar:  from  that  class  we  must  take  our 
instances,  and  above  all,  from  those  who  make  the  nearest 
approaches  to  wisdom.  We  see  that  Pap  us  ^milius  was  the 
intimate  friend  of  Caius  Luscinus  (so  we  have  learned  from 
our  fathers) ; that  they  were  twice  consuls  together,  and  col- 
leagues in  the  censorship ; and  that  at  the  same  time  Marcus 
Curius  and  Titus  Coruncanius  were  most  intimate  with 
them  and  with  each  other,  is  a matter  of  history,  and  there- 
fore we  can  not  even  suspect  that  any  one  of  these  ever 
asked  his  friend  any  thing  that  was  contrary  to  their  honor, 
their  oath,  and  the  interest  of  the  state : for  what  reason  is 
there  for  making  such  a remark  about  men  like  them  ? I 
am  convinced,  had  any  of  them  made  the  request,  he  would 
not  have  obtained  it,  for  they  were  men  of  the  purest  prin- 
ciple; besides,  it  would  be  equally  as  wrong  to  agree  to 
and  such  request  when  made,  as  to  make  it.  And  yet  Caius 
Carbo  and  Caius  Cato  both  took  the  nart  of  Tiberius  Grac- 


188 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  xir. 


chus,  as  did  liis  brother  Caius,  at  that  time  by  no  means  an 
agitator,  but  now  one  of  the  most  violent. 

XII.  Let  this  law  therefore  be  established  in  friendship, 
viz.,  that  we  should  neither  ask  things  that  are  improper,  nor 
grant  them  when  asked ; for  it  is  a disgraceful  apology,  and 
by  no  means  to  be  admitted,  as  well  in  the  case  of  other 
offenses,  as  when  any  one  avows  he  has  acted  against  the  state 
for  the  sake  of  a friend.^  For  we  are  placed,  O Fannius  and 
Scsevola,  in  such  a position  that  we  ought  to  see  from  a 
distance  the  future  calamities  of  the  commonwealth ; for  the 
practice  of  our  ancestors  has  already  in  some  respect  swerved 
from  its  career  and  course.  Tiberius  Gracchus  has  endeavored 
to  obtain  the  sovereignty,  or  rather  he  reigned  for  a few 
months.  Had  the  Koman  people  ever  heard  or  witnessed 
any  thing  similar?  Even  after  his  death,  his  friends  and 
relations  maintained  his  cause;  and  what  malice  they  exer- 
cised against  Publius  Scipio,  I can  not  relate  without  tears ; 
for,  owing  to  the  recent  punishment  of  Tiberius  Gracchus, 
we  withstood  Carbo  by  whatever  means  we  could.  And  con- 
cerning the  tribuneship  of  Caius  Gracchus,  what  we  have  to 
expect  I have  no  disposition  to  anticipate  ; still  the  movement 
is  creeping  on,  and  when  once  it  has  begun,  it  rushes  with 
increasing  precipitation  to  destruction : for  already  you  have 
seen  with  regard  to  the  ballot,  what  great  mischief  has  been 

1 “ The  knowledge  concerning  good  respecting  society,  doth  handle  it 
also,  not  simply  alone,  but  comparatively;  whereunto  belongeth  the 
weighing  of  duties  between  person  and  person,  case  and  case,  particular 
and  public ; as  we  see  in  the  proceeding  of  Lucius  Brutus  against  his 
own  sons,  which  was  so  much  extolled ; yet  what  was  said  ? 

‘ Infelix  utcunque  ferent  ea  facta  minores.’ 

So  the  case  was  doubtful,  and  had  opinion  on  both  sides.  Again,  we 
see  when  M.  Brutus  and  Cassius  invited  to  a supper  certain  whose  opin- 
ions they  meant  to  feel  whether  they  were  fit  to  be  made  their  associates, 
and  cast  forth  the  question  touching  the  killing  of  a tyrant  being  a usurp- 
er, they  were  divided  in  opinion ; some  holding  that  servitude  was  the 
extreme  of  evils,  and  others  that  tyranny  was  better  than  civil  war ; and 
a number  of  the  like  cases  there  are  of  comparative  duty,  among  which, 
that  of  aU  others  is  the  most  frequent,  where  the  question  is  of  a great 
deal  of  good  to  ensue  of  a small  injustice  which  Jason  of  Thessalia  de- 
termined against  truth.  ‘ Aliqua  sunt  injuste  facienda  ut  multa  juste 
fieri  possint.’  But  the  reply  is  good : ‘ Auctorem  proesentis  justitiae  habes 
sponsorem  futurm  non  habes.’  Men  must  pursue  things  which  are  just 
at  present,  and  leave  the  future  to  a divine  Providence.” — Bacon’s  Adv. 
of  Learning,  book  II, 


CHAP.  XIII. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


189 


caused — first,  by  the  Gabinian  iaw,^  and  two  years  after  by 
the  Cassian:  for  already  I fancy  I see  the  people  separated 
from  the  senate,  and  the  most  important  measures  carried  at 
the  caprice  of  the  mob ; far  more  people  will  learn  how 
such  things  may  be  done,  than  how  they  may  be  resisted. 
Wherefore  do  I say  this  ? Because  without  allies  no  one 
attempts  any  thing  of  the  kind ; therefore  this  should  be 
pressed  on  all  good  men,  that  if  inadvertently  they  should 
have  fallen  unawares  into  friendships  of  that  character,  they 
must  think  themselves  bound  in  such  a manner  that  they 
must  not  desert  their  friends  when  doing  wrong  in  any  import- 
ant matter : at  the  same  time,  punishment  should  be  enacted 
against  the  wicked ; and  not  less  severe  for  those  who  have 
followed  another,  than  for  those  who  have  been  themselves 
the  leaders  of  the  wickedness.  Who  was  more  illustrious 
in  Greece  than  Themistocles  ? who  more  powerful  ? And 
when  he,  as  general  in  the  Persian  war,  had  freed  Greece 
from  slavery,  and  through  unpopularity  had  been  driven  into 
exile,  he  could  not  endure  the  injustice  of  his  ungrateful 
country,  which  he  ought  to  have  borne  ; he  acted  the  same 
part  as  Coriolanus  had  done  among  us  twenty  years  before. 
No  one  was  found  to  support  these  men  against  their  coun- 
try; accordingly,  they  both  committed  suicide.  Wherefore 
such  a combination  wdth  wicked  men  not  only  must  not  be 
sheltered  under  the  excuse  of  friendship,  but  should  rather 
be  visited  with  every  kind  of  punishments:  so  that  no  one 
may  think  it  permitted  to  him  to  follow  a friend,  even 
-when  waging  war  against  his  country.  And  as  matters 
have  begun  to  proceed,  I know  not  whether  that  will  not 
some  day  occur.  To  me,  however,  it  is  no  less  a cause  of 
anxiety  in  what  state  the  republic  shall  be  after  my  death, 
than  in  what  state  it  is  at  this  day. 

XIII.  Let  this,  therefore,  be  established  as  a primary  law 
concerning  friendship,  that  we  expect  from  our  friends  only 
what  is  honorable,  and  for  our  friends’  sake  do  what  is 
honorable ; that  we  should  not  wait  till  we  are  asked  ; that 
j:eal  be  ever  ready,  and  reluctance  far  from  us  ; but  that  we 

^ Lex  Gdbinia  de  Gomitiis^  by  Aulus  Gabinius,  the  tribune,  a.u.c.  614. 
It  required  that,  in  the  public  assemblies  for  electing  magistrates,  the 
votes  should  be  given  by  tablets,  and  not  viva  voce.  Cassius  was  tribune 
of  tlie  people,  and  competitor  with  Cicero  for  the  consulship. 


190 


CICERO  OiT  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XIIL 


take  pleasure  in  freely  giving  our  advice ; that  in  our 
friendship,  the  influence  of  our  friends,  when  they  give  good 
advice,  should  have  great  weight ; and  that  this  be  em- 
ployed to  admonish  not  only  candidly,  but  even  severely,  if 
the  case  shall  require,  and  that  we  give  heed  to  it  when  so 
employed  ; for,  as  to  certain  persons,  whom  I understand  to 
have  been  esteemed  wise  men  in  Greece,  I am  of  opinion 
that  some  strange  notions  were  entertained  by  them ; but 
there  is  nothing  which  they  do  not  follow  up  with  too  great 
subtlety : among  the  rest,  that  excessive  friendships  should 
be  avoided,  lest  it  should  be  necessary  for  one  to  feel 
anxiety  for  many ; that  every  one  has  enough,  and  more 
than  enough,  of  his  own  affairs  ; that  to  be  needlessly  impli- 
cated in  those  of  other  people  is  vexatious ; that  it  was  most 
convenient  to  hold  the  reins  of  friendship  as  loose  as  pos- 
sible, so  as  either  to  tighten  or  slacken  them  when  you 
please ; for  they  argue,  that  the  main  point  toward  a happy 
life  is  freedom  from  care,  which  the  mind  can  not  enjoy  if 
one  man  be,  as  it  were,  in  travail  for  others.  Nay,  they 
tell  us  that  some  are  accustomed  to  declare,  still  more 
unfeelingly  (a  topic  which  I have  briefly  touched  upon  just 
above),  that  friendships  should  be  cultivated  for  the  purpose 
of  protection  and  assistance,  and  not  for  kind  feeling  or 
affection;  and  therefore  the  less  a man  possesses  of  in- 
dependence, and  of  strength,  in  the  same  degree  he  most 
earnestly  desires  friendships;  that  thence  it  arises  that 
women  seek  the  support  of  friendship  more  than  men,  and 
the  poor  more  than  the  rich,  and  persons  in  distress,^  rather 
than  those  who  are  considered  prosperous.  Admirable  phi- 
losophy ! for  they  seem  to  take  away  the  sun  from  the  world 
who  withdraw  friendship  from  life ; for  we  receive  nothing 
better  from  the  immortal  gods,  nothing  more  delightful : for 
what  is  this  freedom  from  care? — in  appearances,  indeed, 
flattering;  but,  in  many  cases  in  reality  to  be  disdained. 
Nor  is  it  reasonable  to  refuse  to  undertake  any  honorable 
matter  or  action  lest  you  should  be  anxious,  or  to  lay  it  aside 
when  undertaken ; for  if  we  fly  from  care,  we  must  fly 
from  virtue  also;  for  it  is  impossible  that  she  can,  vdthout 
some  degree  of  distress,  feel  contempt  and  detestation  for 

^ CalaTYiiiosiy  the  ruined ; from  calo.mitas,  a hail-storm,  which  breaks 
tlie  calamus  or  stalk  of  plants. 


CHAP,  xrv. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


191 


qualities  opposed  to  herself ; just  as  kind-heartedness  for 
malice,  temperance  for  profligacy,  and  bravery  for  cowardice. 
Accordingly  you  see  that  upright  men  are  most  distressed 
by  unjust  actions ; the  brave  with  the  cowardly ; the  virtu- 
ous with  the  profligate : and,  therefore,  this  is  the  character- 
istic of  a well-regulated  mind,  both  to  be  well  pleased  with 
what  is  excellent,  and  to  be  distressed  with  what  is  contrary. 
Wherefore,  if  trouble  of  mind  befall  a wise  man  (and  as- 
suredly it  will,  unless  we  suppose  that  all  humanity  is 
extirpated  from  his  mind),  what  reason  is  there  why  we 
should  altogether  remove  friendship  from  life,  lest  because  of 
it  we  should  take  upon  ourselves  some  troubles  ? for  what 
difierenee  is  there  (setting  the  emotions  of  the  mind  aside),  I 
do  not  say  between  a man  and  a beast,  but  between  a man  and 
a stone,  or  log,  or  any  thing  of  that  kind  ? For  they  do  not 
deserve  to  be  listened  to,  who  would  have  virtue  to  be  callous, 
and  made  of  iron,  as  it  were  ; which  indeed  is,  as  in  other  mat- 
ters, so  in  friendship  also,  tender  and  susceptible ; so  that 
friends  are  loosened,  as  it  were,  by  happy  events,  and  drawn 
together  by  distresses. 

XIV.  Wherefore  the  anxiety  which  has  often  to  be  felt  for 
a friend,  is  not  of  such  force  that  it  should  remove  friendship 
from  the  world,  any  more  than  that  the  virtues,  because  they 
bring  with  them  certain  cares  and  troubles,  should  therefore 
be  discarded.  For  when  it  produces  friendship  (as  I said 
above),  should  any  indication  of  virtue  shine  forth,  to  which 
a congenial  mind  may  attach  and  unite  itself — when  this 
happens,  affection  must  necessarily  arise.  For  what  is  so 
unmeaning  as  to  take  delight  in  many  vain  things,  such  as 
preferments,  glory,  magnificent  buildings,  clothing  and 
adornment  of  the  body;  and  not  to  take  an  extreme  delight 
in  a soul  endued  with  virtue,  in  such  a soul  as  can  either 
love,  or  (so  to  speak)  love  in  return?  for  there  is  nothing 
more  delightful  than  the  repayment  of  kindness,  and  the 
interchange  of  devotedness  and  good  ofiices.  Now  if  we  add 
this,  which  may  with  propriety  be  added,  that  there  is 
nothing  which  so  allures  and  draws  any  object  to  itself  as 
congeniality  does  friendship ; it  will  of  course  be  admitted 
as  true  that  the  good  must  love  the  good,  and  unite  them  to 
themselves,  just  as  if  connected  by  relationship  and  nature  ; 
for  nothing  is  more  apt  to  seek  and  seize  on  its  like  than 


19: 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XIV. 


nature.  Wherefore  this  certainly  is  clear,  Fannius  and 
Kcaevola,  (in  my  opinion),  that  among  the  good  a liking  for 
the  good  is,  as  it  were,  inevitable ; and  this  indeed  is  ap- 
pointed by  nature  herself  as  the  very  fountain  of  friendship.^ 
Ilut  the  same  kind  disposition  belongs  also  to  the  multitude ; 
for  virtue  is  not  inhuman,  or  cruel,  or  haughty,  since  she  is 
accustomed  to  protect  even  whole  nations,  and  to  adopt  the 
best  measures  for  their  welfare,  which  assuredly  she  Avould 
not  do  did  she  shrink  from  the  affection  of  the  vulgar.  And 
to  myself,  indeed,  those  who  form  friendships  with  a view 
to  advantage,  seem  to  do  away  with  its  most  endearing 
bond ; for  it  is  not  so  much  the  advantage  obtained  through 
a friend,  as  the  mere  love  of  that  friend,  which  delights ; and 
then  only  what  has  proceeded  from  a friend  becomes  de- 
lightful, if  it  has  proceeded  from  zealous  affection  : and  that 
friendship  should  be  cultivated  from  a sense  of  necessity,  is 
so  far  from  being  the  case,  that  those  who,  being  endowed 
vrith  power  and  wealth,  and  especially  with  virtue  (in 
which  is  the  strongest  support  of  friendship),  have  least 
need  of  another,  are  most  liberal  and  generous.  Yet  I am 
not  sure  whether  it  is  requisite  that  friends  should  never 
stand  in  any  need;  for  wherein  would  any  devotedness  of 
mine  to  him  have  been  exerted,  if  Scipio  had  never  stood 
in  need  of  my  advice  or  assistance  at  home  or  abroad  ? 


^ “ Of  all  attacliments  to  an  individual,  that  which  is  founded  alto- 
gether upon  esteem  and  approbation  of  his  good  conduct  and  behavior, 
confirmed  by  much  experience  and  long  acquaintance,  is  by  far  the  most 
respectable.  Such  friendship  arising,  not  from  a constrained  sympathy, 
not  from  a sympathy  which  has  been  assumed  and  rendered  habitual  for 
the  sake  of  convenience  and  accommodation,  but  from  a natural  sympa- 
thy, from  an  involuntary  feeling  that  the  persons  to  whom  we  attach 
ourselves  are  the  natural  and  proper  objects  of  esteem  and  approbation, 
can  exist  only  among  men  of  virtue.  Men  of  virtue  only  can  feel  that 
entire  confidence  in  the  conduct  and  behavior  of  one  another  which  can 
at  all  times  assure  them  that  they  can  never  either  offend  or  be  offended 
by  one  another : vice  is  always  capricious ; virtue  only  is  regular  and 
orderly.  The  attachment  which  is  founded  upon  the  love  of  virtue,  as  it 
is  certainly  of  all  attachment#  the  most  virtuous,  so  it  is  likewise  the 
happiest,  as  well  as  the  most  permanent  and  serene.  Such  friendships 
need  not  be  confined  to  a single  person,  but  may  safely  embrace  all  the 
wise  and  virtuous  with  whom  we  have  been  long  and  intimately  ac- 
quainted, and  upon  whose  wisdom  and  virtue  we  can  upon  that  account 
entirely  depend.” — Smith’s  Moral  Sentiments,  Part  VI. 


CHAP.  XT. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


193 


Wherefore  friendship  has  not  followed  upon  advantage,  but 
advantage  on  friendship. 

XV.  Persons,  therefore,  who  are  wallowing  in  indulgence, 
will  not  need  to  be  listened  to  if  ever  they  shall  descant 
upon  friendship,  which  they  have  known  neither  by  ex- 
perience nor  by  theory.  For  who  is  there,  by  the  faith  of 
gods  and  men,  who  would  desire,  on  the  conditon  of  his 
loving  no  one,  and  himself  being  loved  by  none,  to  roll  in 
affluence,  and  live  in  a superfluity  of  all  things  ? For  this  is 
the  life  of  tyrants,  in  which  undoubtedly  there  can  be  no 
confidence,  no  affection,  no  steady  dependence  on  attach- 
ment; all  is  perpetually  mistrust  and  disquietude — there  is 
no  room  for  friendship.  For  who  can  love  either  him 
whom  he  fears,  or  him  by  whom  he  thinks  he  himself  is 
feared  ? Yet  are  they  courted,  solely  in  hypocrisy,  for  a 
time  ; because,  if  perchance  (as  it  frequently  happens)  they 
have  been  brought  low,  then  it  is  perceived  how  desti- 
tute they  were  of  friends.  And  this,  they  say,  Tarquin^ 
expressed;  that  when  going  into  exile,  he  found  out  whom 
he  had  as  faithful  friends,  and  whom  unfaithful  ones,  since 
then  he  could  no  longer  show  gratitude  to  either  party; 
although  I wonder  that,  with  such  haughtiness  and  im- 
patience of  temper,  he  could  find  one  at  all.  And  as  the 
character  of  the  individual  whom  I have  mentioned  could 
not  obtain  true  friends,  so  the  riches  of  many  men  of  rank 
exclude  all  faithful  friendship;  for  not  only  is  fortune  blind 
herself,  but  she  commonly  renders  blind  those  whom  she 
embraces.  Accordingly  such  persons  are  commonly  pufied 
up  with  pride  and  insolence,  nor  can  any  thing  be  found 
more  intolerable  than  a fortunate  fool.  And  thus,  indeed, 
one  may  observe,  that  those  who  before  were  of  agreeable 
character,  by  military  command,  by  preferment,  by  pros- 
perity, are  changed,  and  old  friendships  are  despised  by 
them,  and  new  ones  cherished.  For  what  can  be  more 
foolish  than,  when  men  are  possessed  of  great  influence  by 
their  wealth,  power,  and  resources,  to  procure  other  things 
which  are  procured  by  money — horses,  slaves,  rich  apparel, 

’ Tarquinius,  surnamed  Superbus,  the  seventh  and  last  king  of  Rome. 
After  reigning  twenty-five  years,  he  was  banished,  about  b.c.  509,  in 
consequence  of  the  rape  of  Lucretia.  The  republican  form  of  government 
was  established  at  Rome  after  the  expulsion  of  Tarquin. 

9 


194 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XVI. 


costly  vases — and  not  to  procure  friends,  tlie  most  valuable 
and  fairest  furniture  of  life,  if  I may  so  speak ; for  while 
they  are  procuring  those  things,  they  know  not  for  whom 
they  are  procuring  them,  nor  for  whose  sake  they  are  laboring.^ 
For  every  one  of  these  things  belongs  to  him  who  is  most 
powerful,  whereas  the  possession  of  his  friendships  is  preserved 
to  every  one  steadfast  and  secure ; so  that  if  those  things  are 
preserved  which  are,  as  it  were,  the  gifts  of  fortune,  yet  a life  un- 
adorned and  abandoned  by  friends  can  not  possibly  be  happy. 
But  on  this  head  enough 

XVI.  But  it  is  required  to  lay  down  what  limits  there  are 
in  friendship,  and,  as  it  were,  what  bounds  of  loving,  con- 
cerning which  I see  three  opinions  held,  of  none  of  which  I 
approve  : — the  first,  that  we  should  be  affected  toward  a 
friend  in  the  same  manner  as  toward  ourselves ; the  second, 
that  our  good-will  toward  our  friends  should  exactly  and 
equally  answer  to  their  good-will  toward  us ; the  third,  that 
at  whatever  value  a man  sets  himself,  at  the  same  he  should 
be  estimated  by  his  friends.  To  none  of  these  three  opinions 
do  I entirely  assent.  For  the  first  one  is  not  true,  that  as  a 
man  feels  toward  himself  so  he  should  be  disposed  toward 
his  friend.  For  how  many  things,  which  for  our  own  sake 
we  should  never  do,  do  we  perform  for  the  sake  of  our 
friends  ? To  ask  favors  of  unworthy  persons,  to  supplicate 
them,  to  inveigh  bitterly  against  any  one,  and  to  accuse  him 
with  great  vehemence,  which  in  our  own  cases  can  not  be  done 
creditably,  in  the  case  of  our  friends  are  most  honorably 
done ; and  there  are  many  cases  in  which  good  men  subtract 
many  things  from  their  own  interests,  or  allow  them  to  be 
subtracted,  that  their  friends,  rather  than  themselves,  may 
enjoy  them.  The  second  opinion  is  that  which  limits  friend- 
ship to  an  equality  of  kind  actions  and  kind  wdshes : this  is 
indeed  to  reduce  friendship  to  figures  too  minutely  and  penu- 
riously,  so  that  there  may  be  a balance  of  received  and  paid. 
True  friendship  seems  to  be  far  too  rich  and  affluent  for  that, 
and  not  to  observe,  narrowly,  lest  it  should  pay  more  than  it 
receives : nor  need  it  be  feared  lest  any  thing  should  be  lost 


1 In  this,  as  in  many  other  passages,  Cicero  has  written  the  sentiment 
and  almost  the  language  of  the  Scriptures  : “ He  heapeth  up  riches,  and 
knoweth  not  who  shall  gather  them.” 


CHAP.  XVII. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


195 


or  fall  to  the  ground,  or  lest  more  than  what  is  fair  should 
be  accumulated  on  the  side  of  friendship.  But  the  third 
limitation  is  most  detestable,  that  at  whatever  value  a man 
sets  on  himself,  at  that  value  he  should  be  estimated  by  his 
friends;  for  often,  in  certain  persons,  either  their  spirit  is 
too  humble,  or  their  hope  of  improving  their  condition  too 
desponding;  it  is  not,  therefore,  the  part  of  a friend  to  be 
toward  him  what  he  is  to  himself ; but  rather  to  use  every 
effort,  and  to  contrive  to  cheer  the  prostrate  spirit  of  his 
friend,  and  to  encourage  better  hopes  and  thoughts.  There- 
fore I must  lay  down  some  other  limit  of  true  friendship,  as 
soon  as  I shall  have  stated  what  Scipio  was  accustomed 
above  all  things  to  reprehend.  He  used  to  declare  that  no 
speech  could  be  found  more  hostile  to  friendship,  than  his 
w^ho  had  said  that  a man  ought  so  to  love  as  if  one  day  he 
would  come  to  hate.^  Nor,  indeed,  could  he  be  induced  to 
believe  that  this,  as  was  supposed,  was  said  by  Bias,^  who 
was  considered  one  of  the  seven  wise  men ; but  that  it  was 
the  opinion  of  some  wicked  or  ambitious  man,  or  one  who 
sought  to  bring  every  thing  under  his  own  power.  For  in 
what  manner  can  any  one  be  a friend  to  him  to  whom  he 
thinks  he  may  possibly  become  an  enemy  ? Moreover,  it  will 
follow  that  he  desires  and  wishes  his  friend  to  do  wrong  as 
often  as  possible,  that  he  may  afford  him,  as  it  were,  so  many 
handles  for  reproach.  And,  again,  at  the  right  conduct  and 
advantage  of  his  friends  he  will  necessarily  be  tormented, 
grieved,  and  jealous.  Wherefore  this  precept,  to  whomso- 
ever it  belongs,  is  powerful  only  for  the  destruction  of  friend- 
ship. This,  rather,  should  have  been  the  precept,  that  we 
should  employ  such  carefulness  in  forming  our  friendships, 
that  we  should  not  any  time  begin  to  love  the  man  whom  we 
could  ever  possibly  hate.  Moreover,  if  we  have  been  but 
unfortunate  in  our  selection,  Scipio  was  of  opinion  that  this 
should  be  submitted  to,  rather  than  that  a time  of  alienation 
should  ever  be  contemplated. 

XVII.  I think,  therefore,  w^e  must  adopt  these  limitations, 
that  when  the  character  of  friends  is  correct,  then  there 

^ Si  aliquando  esset  osnrus.  This  sentiment  is  taken  from  the  Ajax  of 
Sophocles. 

2 Bias,  one  of  the  seven  wise  men  of  Greece ; born  at  Priene.  He 
nourished  about  B.c.  5Y0. 


196 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  xvn. 


should  be  a community  between  them  of  all  things,  of  pur- 
pose and  of  will,  without  any  exception ; so  that,  even  if  by 
any  chance  it  has  happened  that  the  less  honorable  wishes 
of  our  friends  have  to  be  forwarded,  in  which  either  their 
life  is  concerned,  or  their  reputation,  then  you  may  decline  a 
little  from  the  straight  path,^  provided  only  extreme  infamy 
do  not  follow ; for  there  is  a point  to  which  indulgence  may 
be  granted  to  friendship:  yet  reputation  must  not  be  disre- 
garded ; nor  ought  we  to  esteem  the  good-will  of  our  fellow- 
countrymen  as  an  engine  of  small  value  in  the  administration 
of  the  state,  although  to  seek  it  by  fawning  and  flattering  is 
mean  indeed;  yet  virtue,  on  which  affection  is  consequent, 
should  by  no  means  be  rejected.  But  frequently  (for  I 
return  to  Scipio,  the  whole  of  whose  discourse  was  concern- 
ing friendship)  he  used  to  complain,  that  in  all  other  things 
men  were  comparatively  careful ; so  that  every  man  could 
tell  how  many  goats  or  how  many  sheep  he  possessed,  yet 
how  many  friends  he  had  he  could  not  tell ; and  in  procuring 
the  former,  men  employed  carefulness,  while  in  selecting 
their  friends  they  were  negligent,  nor  had  they,  as  it  were, 
any  signs  or  marks  by  which  they  determined  who  were 
suited  for  friendship.  The  steadfast,  then,  and  the  steady, 
and  the  consistent  are  to  be  selected,  of  which  class  of 
persons  there  is  a great  scarcity ; and,  in  truth,  it  is  difficult 
for  any  one  to  judge,  unless  after  he  is  experienced.  Now 
the  trial  must  be  made  in  actual  friendship ; thus  fiiendship 
outstrips  judgment,  and  removes  the  power  of  making  ex- 
periments. It  is  the  part,  therefore,  of  a prudent  man,  to 
check  the  impetus  of  his  kindly  feeling  as  he  w^ould  his 
chariot,  that  we  may  have  our  friendships,  like  our  horses, 

^ “ Something  indeed,  not  unlike  the  doctrine  of  the  casuists,  seems  to 
have  been  attempted  by  several  philosophers.  There  is  something  of  this 
kind  in  the  third  book  of  Cicero’s  Offices,  where  he  endeavors,  like  a 
casuist,  to  give  rules  for  our  conduct  in  many  nice  cases  in  which  it  is 
difficult  to  determine  whereabouts  the  point  of  propriety  may  lie.  It 
appears  too  from  many  passages  in  the  same  book,  that  several  other 
philosophers  had  attempted  something  of  the  same  kind  before  him. 
Neither  he  nor  they,  however,  appeared  to  have  aimed  at  giving  a com- 
plete system  of  this  sort,  but  only  meant  to  show  how  situations  may 
occur  in  which  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  highest  propriety  of  conduct 
consists  in  observing  or  in  receding  from  what  in  ordinary  cases  are  the 
rules  of  duty.” — Smith’s  “ Moral  Philosophy,”  Part  viL 


CHAP,  y VIII.  CICERO  ON  ERIENDSHIP.  197 

fully  proved,  when  the  character  of  our  friends  has  been  in 
some  measure  tested.  Of  some,  it  is  often  discovered  in 
small  sums  of  money  how  void  of  worth  they  are.  Some, 
whom  a small  sum  could  not  influence,  are  discovered  in  -the 
case  of  a large  one.  But,  even  if  some  shall  be  found  who 
think  it  sordid  to  prefer  money  to  friendship,  where  should 
we  find  those  who  do  not  place  above  friendship  high  digni- 
ties, magistracies,  military  command,  civil  authorities,  and 
influence  ? so  that,  when  on  the  one  side  these  objects  have 
been  proposed,  and  the  claim  of  friendship  on  the  other, 
they  would  not  far  prefer  the  former.  For  nature  is  too  weak 
to  despise  the  possession  of  power ; for,  even  if  they  have 
attained  it  by  the  slighting  of  friendship,  they  think  the  act 
will  be  thrown  into  the  shade,  because  friendship  was  not 
overlooked  without  strong  grounds.  Therefore  real  friend- 
ships are  found  with  most  difficulty  among  those  who  are  in- 
vested with  high  offices,  or  in  business  of  the  state.  For 
where  can  you  find  the  man  who  would  prefer  his  friend’s 
advancement  to  his  own?  And  why?  For  to  pass  over 
these  matters,  how  grievous,  how  impracticable  to  most  men 
does  participation  in  afflictions  appear!  to  which  it  is  not 
easy  to  find  the  man  who  will  descend.  Although  Ennius^ 
truly  says,  “ A sure  friend  is  discerned  in  an  unsure  matter.” 
Yet  these  two  charges  of  inconstancy  and  of  weakness  con- 
demn most  men : either  in  their  prosperity  they  despise  a 
friend,  or  in  his  troubles  they  desert  him. 

XVIII.  He  who,  therefore,  shall  have  shown  himself  in  both 
cases  as  regards  friendship,  worthy,  consistent,  and  steadfast ; 
such  a one  we  ought  to  esteem  of  a class  of  persons  ex- 
tremely rare,  nay,  almost  godlike.  Now,  the  foundation  of 
that  steadfastness  and  constancy,  which  we  seek  in  friendship, 
is  sincerity.  For  nothing  is  steadfast  which  is  insincere. 
Besides,  it  is  right  that  one  should  be  chosen  who  is  frank,  and 
good-natured,  and  congenial  in  his  sentiments  ; one,  in  fact,  who 
is  influenced  by  the  same  motives  ; all  which  qualities  have  a 
tendency  to  create  sincerity.  For  it  is  impossible  for  a wily  and 

1 Ennius^  a Latin  poet,  born  at  Rudii,  in  Calabria.  He  wrote,  in  heroic 
verse,  eighteen  books  of  the  Annals  of  the  Roman  Republic,  which  jaro 
frequently  quoted  by  Cicero.  He  was  the  intimate  friend  of  Cato  and 
Scipio  ; the  former  of  whom  he  accompanied  when  qsestor  of  Sardinia. 
His  death  took  place  about  170  years  before  the  Christian  era. 


198 


CICERO  ON  ERIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XIX. 


tortuous  disposition  to  be  sincere.  Nor  in  truth  can  the  man 
who  has  no  sympathy  from  nature,  and  who  is  not  moved  by  the 
same  considerations,  be  either  attached  or  steady.  To  the  same 
requisites  must  be  added,  that  he  shall  neither  take  delight  in 
bringing  forward  charges,  nor  believe  them  when  they  arise ; 
all  which  causes  belong  to  that  consistent  principle,  of  which 
now  for  some  time  I have  been  treating.  Thus  the  remark 
is  true,  which  I made  at  first,  that  friendship  can  only  exist 
among  the  good : for  it  is  the  part  of  a good  man  (whom  at 
the  same  time  we  may  call  a wise  man)  to  observe  these  two 
rules  in  friendship : first,  that  there  shall  be  nothing  pre- 
tended or  simulated  (for  even  to  hate  openly  better  becomes 
the  ingenuous  man,  than  by  his  looks  to  conceal  his  sen- 
timents) ; in  the  next  place,  that  not  only  does  he  repel 
charges  when  brought  (against  his  friends)  by  any  one,  but 
is  not  himself  suspicious,  ever  fancying  that  some  infidelity 
has  been  committed  by  his  friend.  To  all  this  there  should 
be  added  a certain  suavity  of  conversation  and  manners, 
affording  as  it  does  no  inconsiderable  zest  to  friendship. 
Now  solemnity  and  gravity  on  all  occasions,  certainly,  carry 
with  them  dignity;  but  friendship  ought  to  be  easier  and 
more  free  and  more  pleasant,  and  tending  more  to  every  kind 
of  politeness  and  good  nature. 

XIX.  But  there  arises  on  this  subject  a somewhat  difficult 
question;  whether  ever  new  friends,  if  deseving  friendship, 
are  to  be  preferred  to  old  ones,  just  as  we  are  wont  to  prefer 
young  colts  to  old  horses  ? a perplexity  unworthy  of  a man ; 
for  there  ought  to  be  no  satiety  of  friendship  as  of  other 
things : every  thing  wffiich  is  oldest  (as  those  wines  which 
bear  age  well)  ought  to  be  sweetest ; and  that  is  true  which 
is  sometimes  said,  “ many  bushels  of  salt  must  be  eaten 
together,”  before  the  duty  of  friendship  can  be  fulfilled.  But 
new  friendships,  if  they  afford  a hope  that,  as  in  the  case  of 
plants  which  never  disappoint,  fruits  shall  appear,  such  are 
not  to  be  rejected ; yet  the  old  one  must  be  preserved  in  its 
proper  place,  for  the  power  of  age  and  custom  is  exceedingly 
great;  besides,  in  the  very  case  of  the  horse,  which  I just 
mentioned,  if  there  is  no  impediment,  there  is  no  one  who 
does  not  more  pleasurably  use  that  to  which  he  is  accustomed 
than  one  unbroken  and  strange  to  him  ; and  habits  asserts  its 
power,  and  habit  prevails,  not  only  in  the  case  of  this,  which 


CHAP.  XX. 


CICERO  OX  ERIENDSHIP. 


199 


is  animate,  but  also  in  the  cases  of  those  things  which  are 
inanimate,  since  we  take  delight  in  the  very  mountainous  or 
woody  scenery  among  which  we  have  long  dwelt.  But  it  is 
of  the  greatest  importance  in  friendship  that  the  superior 
should  be  on  an  equality  with  the  inferior.  For  there  often 
are  instances  of  superiority,  as  was  the  case  with  Scipio,  one, 
so  to  speak,  of  our  own  herd.  He  never  ranked  himself 
above  Philus,  or  Kupilius,  or  Mummius,  or  other  friends  of 
an  inferior  grade.  But  his  brother,  Quintus  Maximus,  a 
distinguished  man,  though  by  no  means  equal  to  himself, 
simply  because  he  was  the  elder,  he  treated  as  his  superior, 
and  he  wished  all  his  friends  should  receive  additional  dignity 
through  him.  And  this  conduct  should  be  adopted  and 
imitated  by  all,  so  that  if  they  have  attained  to  any  excellence 
in  worth,  genius,  or  fortune,  they  should  communicate  them 
with  their  friends,  and  share  them  with  their  connections ; so 
that  if  men  have  been  born  of  humble  parentage,  or  if  they 
have  kinsmen  less  powerful  than  themselves,  either  in  mind 
or  in  fortune,  they  should  increase  the  consequence  of  such 
persons,  and  be  to  them  a source  of  credit  and  of  dignity ; as 
in  works  of  fiction,  they  who  for  some  time,  through  igno- 
rance of  their  origin  and  descent,  have  been  in  a state  of 
servitude,  when  they  have  been  discovered  and  found  out  to 
be  the  sons  of  gods  or  kings,  yet  retain  their  afiection  for  the 
shepherds,  whom  for  many  years  they  looked  upon  as  their 
parents.  And  this  assuredly  is  much  rather  to  be  observed  in 
the  case  of  parents  that  are  real  and  undoubted.  For  the  fruit 
of  talent,  and  worth,  and  every  excellence,  is  gathered  most 
fully  when  it  is  bestowed  on  every  one  most  nearly  connected 
with  us. 

XX.  As,  therefore  those  who  are  superior  in  the  con- 
nection of  friendship  and  of  union,  ought  to  put  themselves 
on  a level  with  their  inferiors ; so  ought  the  inferiors  not  to 
grieve  that  they  are  surpassed  by  their  friends  either  in 
genius,  or  fortune,  or  rank : whereas  most  of  them  are  always 
either  complaining  of  something,  or  even  breaking  out  into 
reproaches ; and  so  much  the  more  if  they  think  they  have 
any  thing  which  they  can  say  was  done  by  them  in  an 
obliging  and  friendly  manner  with  some  exertion  on  their 
part.  A disgusting  set  of  people  assuredly  they  are  who  are 
ever  reproaching  you  with  their  services ; which  the  man  on 


200 


CICERO  ON  ERIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XX 


whom  they  are  conferred  ought  indeed  to  remember,  hut  he 
who  conferred  them  ought  not  to  call  them  to  mind.  Where- 
fore, as  those  who  are  superior  ought  in  the  exercise  of 
friendship  to  condescend ; so,  in  a measure,  they  ought  to 
raise  up  their  inferiors.  For  there  are  some  persons  who 
render  friendships  with  them  annoying,  while  they  fancy 
they  are  slighted : this  does  not  commonly  happen  except  to 
those  who  think  themselves  liable  to  be  slighted;  and  from 
this  belief  they  require  to  be  relieved,  not  only  by  your  pro- 
fessions but  by  your  actions.  Now,  first  of  all,  so  much 
advantage  is  to  be  bestowed  on  each  as  you  yourself  can  pro- 
duce ; and  in  the  next  place,  as  much  as  he  whom  you  love 
and  assist  can  bear  ; for  you  could  not,  however  eminent  you 
might  be,  bring  all  your  friends  to  the  very  highest  honor ; 
just  as  Scipio  had  power  to  make  Publius  Rutuliun  consul, 
but  could  not  do  the  same  for  his  brother  Lucius : indeed, 
even  if  you  have  the  power  to  confer  what  you  please  on 
another,  yet  you  must  consider  what  he  can  bear.  On  the 
whole,  those  connections  only  can  be  considered  as  friend- 
ships, when  both  the  dispositions  and  age  have  been  es- 
tablished and  matured.  Nor,  vrhen  persons  have  been  in 
early  life  attached  to  hunting  or  tennis,  aie  they  bound  to 
make  intimates  of  those  whom  at  that  time  they  loved,  as 
being  endowed  with  the  same  taste : for  on  that  principle, 
our  nurses  and  the  tutors  of  our  childhood,  by  right  of 
priority,  will  claim  the  greatest  part  of  our  affection ; who, 
indeed,  should  not  be  neglected,  but  possess  our  regard  in 
some  other  manner  : otherwise  friendships  could  not  continue 
steadfast.  For  dissimilar  habits  and  dissimilar  pursuits 
ensue ; the  dissimilarity  of  which  severs  friendships : it  is 
for  no  other  cause  that  the  good  can  not  be  friends  of  the 
worthless,  or  the  worthless  of  the  good ; but  that  there  is 
between  them  the  greatest  difference  that  can  subsist  of  char- 
acters and  pursuits.  For  in  friendships  this  precept  may 
be  properly  laid  down,  not  to  let  ill-regulated  affection  (as 
often  is  the  case)  thwart  and  impede  the  great  usefulness  of 
friends : nor  in  truth  (to  revert  to  fiction)  could  Neoptolemus^ 
^ Neopiolemus^  a surname  of  Pyrrhus,  the  son  of  Achilles.  lie  was  so 
called  because  he  came  to  the  Trojan  war  in  the  last  year  of  the  siege 
of  Troy.  According  to  the  fates,  Troy  could  not  be  taken  without  his 
assistance.  His  mother,  Deidamia,  was  the  daughter  of  Lycomedes, 
king  of  the  isl-and  of  Scyros. 


CHAP.  XXI. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


201 


have  taken  Troy  if  lie  had  been  inclined  to  listen  to  Lycomedes, 
Avith  whom  he  had  been  brought  up,  when  with  many  tears  he 
sought  to  prevent  his  journey : and  often  important  occasions 
arise,  so  that  you  must  bid  farewell  to  your  friends ; and  he  who 
would  hinder  them,  because  he  can  not  easily  bear  the  regret 
for  their  loss,  such  an  one  is  both  weak  and  efteminate  by 
nature,  and  on  that  ground  unjust  in  his  friendship.  And  in 
every  case  it  is  necessary  to  consider,  both  what  you  would  ask 
of  a friend,  and  what  favor  you  would  permit  to  be  obtained 
from  yourself. 

XXL  There  is  a kind  of  calamity  also,  sometimes  inevi- 
table, in  the  discarding  of  friendships.  For  at  length  our 
discourse  descends,  from  the  intimacies  of  the  wise,  to  ordinary 
friendships.  The  faults  of  friends  often  break  out  as  well  on 
the  friends  themselves  as  on  strangers and  yet  the  disgrace 
of  such  persons  must  redound  to  their  friends  : such  friend- 
ships therefore  must  be  dissolved  by  the  intermission  of 
intercourse,  and  (as  I have  heard  Cato  sdy)  should  be 
ripped  rather  than  rent ; unless  some  intolerable  sense  of 
wrong  has  been  kindled,  so  that  it  is  neither  right,  nor  cred- 
itable, nor  possible  that  an  estrangement  and  separation 
should  not  take  place  immediately.  But  if  any  change  of 
character  or  pursuits  (as  commonly  happens)  shall  have  taken 
place,  or  quarrel  arisen  with  respect  to  political  parties  (for 
I speak  now,  as  I observed  a little  before,  not  of  the  friend- 
ships of  the  wise  but  of  such  as  are  ordinary),  we  should 
have  to  be  cautious,  lest  not  only  friendships  be  found  to  be 
laid  aside,  but  even  animosity  to  have  been  incurred ; for 
nothing  can  be  more  disgraceful  than  to  be  at  war  with  him 
with  whom  you  have  lived  on  terms  of  friendship.  From 
his  friendship  with  Quintus  Pompey,^  Scipio  had  withdrawn 
himself  on  my  account  (as  you  know) ; moreover,  on  account 
of  the  dissension  which  existed  in  the  republic,  he  was 
estranged  from  my  colleague  Metellus  f on  both  occasions  he 

1 Quintus  Pomjpeius  a consul,  who  carried  on  war  against  the  Numan- 
tines,  and  made  an  ignominious  treaty.  He  is  the  first  of  that  noble 
family  of  whom  mention  is  made. 

2 Meo  nomine^  on  my  account;  desiderium  expresses  a '‘^feeling  of 
want^"*  or  “ regret  for  the  loss  of  any  one.” 

3 Metellus,  a Roman  general,  who  defeated  the  Achseans,  and  invaded 
Macedonia. 


202 


CICERO  OK  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XXII. 


acted  with  dignity  and  decision,  and  with  an  offended  hut 
not  bitter  feeling.  Wherefore,  in  the  first  place,  pains  must 
be  taken  that  there  be  no  alienation  of  friends ; but  if  aught 
of  the  kind  shall  have  occurred,  that  that  friendship  should 
seem  rather  to  have  died  away  than  to  have  been  violently 
destroyed.  In  truth  we  must  take  care  lest  friendship  turn 
into  bitter  hostilities ; from  which  quarrels,  hard  language, 
and  insults  are  produced,  and  yet  if  they  shall  be  bearable, 
they  must  be  borne ; and  thus  mi^ch  honor  should  be  paid 
to  an  old  friendship,  that  he  shall  be  in  fault  who  infiicts  the 
injury,  and  not  he  who  suffers  it.  On  the  whole,  against  all 
such  faults  and  inconveniences  there  is  one  precaution  and 
one  provision,  that  we  should  not  begin  to  love  too  hastily, 
nor  love  unworthy  persons.  Now  they  are  worthy  of  friend- 
ship in  whom  there  exists  a reason  why  they  should  be  loved ; 
a rare  class  (for  in  truth  all  that  is  excellent  is  rare)  ; nor  is 
aught  more  difficult  than  to  find  any  thing  which  in  every 
respect  is  perfect  of  its  kind  : but  most  men  recognize  noth- 
ing as  good  in  human  affairs  but  what  is  profitable ; and 
with  their  friends,  as  with  cattle,  they  love  those  most  espe- 
cially from  whom  they  hope  they  will  receive  most  ad- 
vantage ; and  thus  they  are  destitute  of  that  most  beautiful 
and  most  natural  friendship,  which  is  desirable  for  itself  and 
of  itself ; nor  do  they  exemplify  to  themselves  what  ana  how 
powerful  this  quality  of  friendship  is.  For  every  one  loves 
himself,  not  that  he  may  exact  from  himself  some  reward  of 
his  affection,  but  that,  for  his  own  sake,  every  one  is  dear  to 
himself.  And  unless  this  same  principle  be  transferred  to  friend- 
ship, a true  friend  will  never  be  found  ; for  such  an  one  is,  as 
it  were,  a second  self.  Now,  if  this  is  apparent  in  beasts,  birds, 
fishes,  creatures  of  the  field,  tame  and  wild,  that  first  they  love 
themselves  (for  the  principle  is  alike  born  with  every  living 
thing) ; in  the  next  place,  that  they  seek  out  and  desire  some 
creatures  of  the  same  species  to  which  they  may  unite  them- 
selves, and  do  this  with  desire,  and  with  a kind  of  resemblance 
to  human  love ; how  much  more  naturally  does  this  take  place 
in  man  by  nature,  who  not  only  loves  himself,  but  seeks  for 
another  whose  soul  he  may  so  mingle  with  his  own,  as  almost 
to  create  one  person  out  of  two  ? 

XXII.  Yet  most  men,  perversely,  not  to  say  shamelessly, 
desire  to  have  a friend,  such  as  they  themselves  are  unable 


CHAP.  xxir. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


203 


to  be  ; and  allowances  wliich  they  themselves  make  not  for 
their  friends,  they  require  from  them.  Now,  the  fair  thing 
is,  first  that  a man  himself  should  be  good,  and  then  that  he 
should  seek  another  like  to  himself.  Among  such  persons, 
there  may  be  established  that  solidity  of  friendship  which  I 
have  long  been  treating  on ; when  men  are  united  by 
benevolent  feeling,  they  will  first  of  all  master  those 
passions  to  which  others  are  slaves ; next,  they  will  take 
pleasure  in  equity  and  justice,  and  the  one  will  undertake 
every  thing  for  the  other ; nor  will  the  one  ever  ask  of  the 
other  any  thing  but  what  is  honorable  and  right : nor  will 
they  only  mutually  regard  and  love  each  other,  but  even  have 
a feeling  of  respect ; for  he  removes  the  greatest  ornament 
of  friendship,  who  takes  away  from  it  respect.  Accordingly, 
there  is  a pernicious  error  in  those  wdio  think  that  a free  in- 
dulgence in  all  lusts  and  sins  is  extended  in  friendship. 
Friendship  was  given  us  by  nature  as  the  handmaid  of 
virtues,  and  not  as  the  companion  of  our  vices  : that  since, 
alone  and  unaided,  virtue  could  not  arrive  at  the  highest 
attainments,  she  might  be  able  to  do  so  when  united  and 
associated  with  another;^  and  if  such  a society  between  any 
persons  either  exists  or  has  existed,  or  is  likely  to  do  so, 
their  companionship  is  to  be  esteemed,  in  respect  of  the  chief 
good  in  life,  most  excellent  and  most  happy.  This,  I say,  is 
that  association  in  which  all  things  exist  which  men  deem 
worthy  the  pursuit — reputation,  high  esteem,  peace  of  mind, 
and  cheerfulness ; so  that  wdiere  these  blessings  are  present, 
life  is  happy,  and  without  these  can  not  be  so.  And  w^hereas 

1 “ But  it  is  not  merely  as  a source  of  pleasure,  or  as  a relief  from  pain, 
that  virtuous  friendship  is  to  be  coveted,  it  is  as  much  recommended  by 
its  utility.  He  who  has  made  the  acquisition  of  a judicious  and  sympa- 
thizing friend,  may  be  said  to  have  doubled  his  mental  resources : by  as- 
sociating an  equal,  perhaps  a supreme  mind  with  his  own,  he  has  pro- 
vided the  means  of  strengthening  his  reason,  of  perfecting  his  counsels, 
of  discerning  and  correcting  his  errors.  He  can  have  recourse  at  all 
times  to  the  judgment  and  assistance  of  one  who,  with  the  same  power 
of  discernment  with  himself,  comes  to  the  decision  of  a question  with  a 
mind  neither  harassed  with  the  perplexities,  nor  heated  with  the  passions 
which  so  frequently  obscure  the  perception  of  our  true  interests.  Next 
to  the  immediate  guidance  of  God  by  his  Spirit,  the  counsel  and  encour- 
agement of  virtuous  and  enlightened  friends  afford  the  most  powerful 
aid  in  the  encounter  of  temptation  and  in  the  career  of  duty,”—- Hall’a 
>’uneral  Sermon  for  Dr.  Ryland. 


204 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XXIII. 


this  is  the  best  and  highest  of  objects,  if  v/e  would  gain  it, 
attention  must  be  paid  to  virtue ; without  which  we  can 
neither  obtain  friendship  nor  any  thing  worthy  of  pursuit: 
indeed,  should  this  be  disregarded,  they  who  think  they  pos- 
sess friends,  too  late  find  that  they  are  mistaken,  when  some 
grievous  misfortune  compels  them  to  make  the  trial.  Where- 
fore (for  I must  say  it  again  and  again)  when  you  have  formed 
your  judgment,  then  it  behooves  you  to  give  your  afiections  ; 
and  not  Avhen  you  have  given  your  affections,  then  to  form 
the  judgment ; but  while  in  many  cases  we  suffer  for  our  care- 
lessness, so  especially  in  choosing  and  cultivating  friends ; for 
we  adopt  a preposterous  plan,  and  set  about  doing  what  has 
been  already  done,  which  we  are  forbidden  by  the  old  proverb 
to  do.  For,  being  entangled  on  every  side,  either  by  daily  in- 
tercourse or  else  by  kind  offices,  suddenly,  in  the  middle  of  our 
course,  on  some  offense  arising,  we  break  off*  our  friendships 
altogether. 

XXIII.  Wherefore  so  much  the  more  is  this  great  negli- 
gence to  be  blamed  in  a matter  of  the  highest  necessity.  For 
friendship  is  the  only  point  in  human  affairs,  concerning  the 
benefit  of  which,  all  with  one  voice  agree ; although  by 
many  virtue  herself  is  despised,  and  is  said  to  be  a mere 
bragging  and  ostentation.  Many  persons  despise  riches;  for, 
being  content  with  a little,  moderate  food  aad  a moderate 
style  of  living  delights  them;  as  to  high  offices,  in  truth, 
with  the  ambitious  desire  of  which  some  men  are  inflamed, 
how  many  men  so  completely  disregard  them  that  they  think 
nothing  is  more  vain  and  more  trifling:  and  likewise  there 
are  those  who  reckon  as  nothing  other  things  which  to 
some  men  seem  worthy  of  admiration  concerning  friend- 

* Among  these  may  be  mentioned  Lord  Bacon,  not  only  as  one  of  those 
to  whom  Cicero  here  is  especially  referring,  but  as  one  who  himself  held 
the  highest  office  to  which  the  ambition  of  a subject  could  aspire.  In 
his  eleventh  essay,  entitled,  “ Of  great  place,”  he  makes  the  following 
observations : “ Men  in  great  place  are  thrice  servants ; servants  of  the 
sovereign  or  state,  servants  of  fame,  and  servants  of  business,  so  as  they 
have  no  freedom  neither  in  their  persons,  nor  in  their  actions,  nor  in  their 
times.  It  is  a strange  desire  to  seek  power  and  lose  liberty,  or  to  seek 
power  over  others  and  to  lose  power  over  a man’s  self.  The  rising  unto 
place  is  laborious,  and  by  pains  men  come  to  greater  pains,  and  it  is 
sometimes  base  and  by  indignities  men  come  to  dignities.  The  standing 
is  slippery,  and  the  regress  is  either  a downfall  or  at  least  an  eclipse, 
which  is  a melancholy  thing ; ‘ cum  non  sis  qui  fueris  non  ^sse  cur  veils 


CHAP.  XXIIL 


CICERO  ON  ERIENDSHIP. 


205 


sHip,  all  to  a man  liave  tlie  same  opinion.  Those  who  have 
devoted  themselves  to  political  affairs,  and  those  who  find 
pleasure  in  knowledge  and  learning,  and  those  who  transact 
their  own  affairs  at  their  leisure,  and  lastly,  those  who  have 
given  themselves  wholly  up  to  pleasure,  feel  that  with- 
out friendship  life  is  nothing,  at  least  if  they  are  inclined 
in  any  degree  to  live  respectably;  for  somehow  or  other, 
friendship  entwines  itself  with  the  life  of  all  men,  nor  does 

it  suffer  any  mode  of  spending  our  life  to  be  independent  of 

itself.  Moreover,  if  there  is  any*  one  of  such  ferocity  and 
brutality  of  nature  that  he  shuns  and  hates  the  intercourse 
of  mankind,  such  as  we  have  heard  that  one  Timon^  was  at 
Athens ; yet  even  he  can  not  possibly  help  looking  out  for 
some  one  on  whom  he  may  disgorge  the  venom  of  his  ill- 
nature.  And  this  would  be  most  clearly  decided  if  something 
of  this  kind  could  happen — that  some  god  should  remove  us 
from  the  crowded  society  of  men,  and  place  us  somewhere 
in  solitude,  and  there  supplying  us  with  abundance 

and  plenty  of  all  things  which  nature  requires,  yet 

should  take  from  us  altogether  the  opportunity  of  seeing  a 
human  being ; who  would  then  be  so  insensible  that  he 
could  endure  such  a life,  and  from  whom  would  not  solitude 
take  away  the  enjoyment  of  all  pleasure  ? Accordingly, 
there  is  truth  in  that  which  I have  heard  our  old  men  relate 
to  have  been  commonly  said  by  Archytas  of  Tarentum,^  and 

vivere.”  Nay,  retire  men  can  not  when  they  would,  neither  will  they 
when  it  were  reason,  but  are  impatient  of  privateness,  even  in  ago  and 
sickness  which  require  the  shadow ; like  old  townsmen  that  will  be  stilj 
sitting  at  their  street  door,  though  thereby  they  offer  age  to  scorn.  Cer- 
tainly, great  persons  had  need  to  borrow  other  men’s  opinions  to  think 
themselves  happy,  for  if  they  judge  by  their  own  feeling  they  can  not 
find  it,  but  if  they  think  with  themselves  what  other  men  think  of  them, 
and  that  other  men  would  fain  be  as  they  are,  then  they  are  happy  as  it 
were  by  report,  when  perhaps  they  find  the  contrary  within ; for  they 
are  the  first  that  find  their  own  griefs,  though  they  be  the  last  that  find 
their  own  faults.  Certainly,  men  in  great  fortunes  are  strangers  to  them- 
selves, and  while  they  are  in  the  puzzle  of  business,  they  have  no  time 
to  tend  their  own  health,  either  of  body  or  mind.  ‘ Illi  mors  gravis  in- 
cubat  qui  notus  nimis  omnibus,  ignotus  moritur  sibi.’  ” — Bacon’s  Essays, 
Essay  xi. 

^ Timon^  an  Athenian,  called  the  Misanthrope^,  fi'om  his  hatred  of  so- 
ciety. He  forms  the  subject  of  one  of  Shakespeare’s  plays,  and  of  one 
of  Lucian’s  dialogues. 

® Archytas  of  Tarentum,  a Pythagorean  philosopher,  an  able  astrono- 


206 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XXIIL 


I think  heard  by  them  from  others  their  elders,  that  if  any  one 
could  have  ascended  to  the  sky,  and  surveyed  the  structure  of 
universe,  and  the  beauty  of  the  stars,  that  such  admiration 
would  be  insipid  to  him ; and  yet  it  would  be  most  deligtful  if 
he  had  some  one  to  whom  he  might  describe  it.^  Thus  nature 
mer  and  geometrician.  He  perished  by  shipwreck,  about  n.c.  394.  See 
Horace,  Book  I.  Ode  28. 

^ Dugald  Stewart  classes  this  feeling  among  the  natural  and  universal 
principles  of  our  constitution.  “Abstracting,”  he  says,  “from  those  af- 
fections which  interest  us  in  the  happiness  of  others,  and  from  all  the 
advantages  which  we  ourselves  derive  from  the  social  union  we  are  led 
by  a natural  and  instinctive  desire  to  associate  with  our  own  species. 
This  principle  is  easily  discernible  in  the  minds  of  children,  and  it  is  com- 
mon to  man  with  many  of  the  brutes.  After  experiencing,  indeed,  the 
pleasures  of  social  life,  the  influence  of  habit,  and  a knowledge  of  the 
comforts  inseparable  from  society,  contribute  greatly  to  strengthen  the 
instinctive  desire,  and  hence  some  authors  have  been  induced  to  display 
their  ingenuity  by  disputing  its  existence.  Whatever  opinion  we  form 
on  this  speculative  question,  the  desire  of  society  is  equally  entitled  to  bo 
ranked  among  the  natural  and  universal  principles  of  our  constitution. 
How  very  powerfully  this  principle  of  action  operates,  appears  from  the 
cfiects  of  solitude  upon  the  mind.  We  feel  ourselves  in  an  unnatural  state, 
and  by  making  companions  of  the  lower  animals,  or  by  attaching  our- 
selves to  inanimate  objects,  strive  to  fill  up  the  void  of  which  we  are 
conscious.” — Stewart’s  Outlines  of  Moral  Philosophy,  part  ii.  chap.  1. 

But  while  admitting  the  natural  yearning  of  the  human  mind  for  com- 
panionship, some  modern  philosophers,  especially  those  of  a graver  and 
more  reflective  character,  have  insisted  on  the  importance  of  retirement 
and  frequent  solitude.  Thus,  Dr.  Johnson,  the  great  moralist  of  the  last 
generation,  observes : “ The  love  of  retirement  has  in  all  ages  adhered 
closely  to  those  minds  which  have  been  most  enlarged  by  knowledge,  or 
elevated  by  genius.  Those  who  enjoyed  every  thing  generally  supposed 
to  confer  happiness,  have  been  forced  to  seek  it  in  the  shades  of  privacy. 
Though  they  possessed  both  power  and  riches,  and  were  therefore  sur- 
rounded by  men  who  considered  it  as  their  chief  interest  to  remove  from 
them  every  thing  that  might  offend  their  ease,  or  interrupt  their  pleasure, 
they  have  soon  felt  the  languor  of  satiety,  and  found  themselves  unablo 
to  pursue  the  race  of  life  without  ffequent  respirations  of  intermediate 
solitude.  To  produce  this  disposition,  nothing  ajDpears  requisite  but 
quick  sensibility  and  active  imagination  ; for  though  not  devoted  to  virtue 
or  science,  the  man  whose  faculties  enable  him  to  make  ready  compar- 
isons of  the  present  with  the  past  will  find  such  a constant  recurrence 
of  the  same  pleasure  and  troubles,  the  same  expectations  and  disap- 
pointments, that  ho  will  gladly  snatch  an  hour  of  retreat  to  let  his 
thoughts  expatiate  at  large,  and  seek  for  that  variety  in  his  own  ideas 
which  the  objects  of  sense  can  not  afford  him.  These  are  some  of  the 
motives  which  have  had  power  to  sequester  kings  and  heroes  from  the 
crowds  that  soothed  them  with  flatteries,  or  inspirited  them  with  ac- 
clamations. But  their  efficacy  seems  confined  to  the  liighcr  mind,  and 


CHAP.  XXIY. 


CICERO  ON  ERIENDSHIP. 


207 


loves  nothing  solitary,  and  always  reaches  out  to  something,  as 
a support,  which  ever  in  the  sincerest  friend  is  most  delightful. 

XXIV.  But  while  nature  declares  by  so  many  indications 
what  she  likes,  seeks  after,  and  requires ; yet  we  turn,  1 
know  not  how,  a deaf  ear,  nor  do  we  listen  to  those  admon- 
itions which  we  receive  from  her.  For  the  intercourse  of 
friendship  is  various  and  manifold,  and  many  occasions  are 
presented  of  suspicion  and  offense,  which  it  is  the  part  of 
a wise  man  sometimes  to  wink  at,  sometimes  to  make  light  of, 
or  at  others  to  endure.  This  one  ground  of  offense  must  he 
mitigated  in  order  that  truth  and  sincerity  in  friendship  may 
he  preserved;  for  friends  require  to  he  advised  and  to  he 
reproved  : and  such  treatment  ought  to  be  taken  in  a friendly 
spirit,  when  it  is  kindly  meant.  But  somehow  or  other  it  is 
very  true,  what  my  dear  friend  Terence  says  in  his  Andria 
“ Complaisance  begets  friends,  but  truth  ill-will.”  Truth  is 
grievous,  if  indeed  ill-will  arises  from  it,  wdiich  is  the  bane 
of  friendship.  But  complaisance  is  much  more  grievous, 
because  it  allows  a friend  to  be  precipitated  into  ruin,  by 

to  operate  little  upon  the  common  classes  of  mankind,  to  whose  concep- 
tions the  present  assemblage  of  things  is  adequate,  and  who  seldom 
range  beyond  those  entertainments  and  vexation,  which  solicit  their 
attention  by  pressing  on  their  senses.” — Rambler,  No.  T. 

Sir  Thomas  Browne,  also,  has  a quaint  but  beautiful  passage  to  the 
same  effect:  “Unthinking  heads  who  have  not  learned  to  be  alone  are 
in  a prison  to  themselves,  if  they  be  not  also  with  others ; whereas,  on 
the  contrary,  they  whose  thoughts  are  in  a fair  and  hurry  within,  are 
sometimes  fain  to  retire  into  company  to  be  out  of  the  crowd  of  them- 
selves. He  who  must  needs  have  company,  must  needs  have  sometimes 
bad  company.  Be  able  to  be  alone ; lose  not  the  advantage  of  solitude 
and  the  society  of  thyself;  nor  be  only  content  but  delight  to  be  alone 
and  single  with  Omnipresency.  Tie  who  is  thus  prepared,  the  day  is  not 
uneasy,  nor  the  night  black  unto  him.  Darkness  may  bound  his  eyes, 
not  his  imagination.  In  his  bed  he  may  lie,  like  Pompey  and  his  sons, 
in  all  quarters  of  the  earth ; may  speculate  the  universe,  and  enjoy  the 
whole  world  in  the  hermitage  of  himself.  Thus,  the  old  ascetic  Chris- 
tians found  a paradise  in  a desert,  and  with  little  converse  on  earth,  held 
a conversation  in  heaven  ; thus  they  astronomized  in  caves,  and  though 
they  beheld  not  the  stars,  had  the  glory  of  heaven  before  them.” — 
Christian  Morals,  part  iii.  sec.  9. 

1 Andria^  a play  of  Terence,  who  was  a native  of  Carthage,  and  sold 
as  a slave  to  Terentius  Lucanus,  a Roman  senator.  He  was  on  terms  of 
intimacy  with  Scipio,  the  elder  Africanus,  and  Laslius.  He  is  said  to 
have  translated  108  of  the  comedies  of  the  poet  Menander,  six  only  of 
wdiich  are  extant.  He  died  about  e.c.  1 50. 


208 


CICERO  Oil  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  xxir. 


yielding  to  liis  faults.^  But  the  greatest  of  all  faults  is 
chargeable  on  him  who  disregards  truth,  and  thus  by  com- 
plaisance is  led  into  dishonesty.  Accordingly,  in  managing 
this  whole  matter,  carefulness  and  diligence  must  be  employed : 
first,  that  our  advice  may  be  free  from  bitterness,  and  next, 
that  reproof  may  be  unattended  by  insult : in  our  complai- 
sance, however  (since  I gladly  adopt  the  saying  of  Terence), 
let  there  be  a kindness  of  manner,  let  flattery,  however,  the 
handmaid  of  vices,  be  far  removed,  since  it  is  not  only 
unworthy  of  a friend,  but  even  of  a free  man : for  you  live 
after  one  fashion  with  a tyrant,  after  another  with  a friend. 
Now  where  a man’s  ears  are  shut  against  the  truth,  so  that 
he  can  not  hear  the  truth  from  a friend,  the  welfare  of  such  a 
one  is  to  be  despaired  of:  for  the  following  remark  .of  Cato 
is  shrewd,  as  many  of  his  are,  ‘‘  that  bitter  enemies  deserve 
better  at  the  hands  of  some,  than  those  friends  who  seem 
agreeable  : that  the  former  often  speak  the  truth,  the  latter 
never.”  And  it  is  an  absurd  thing,  that  those  who  receive 
advice,  do  not  experience  that  annoyance  which  they  ought  to 

1 “ The  duty  which  leads  us  to  seek  the  moral  reformation  of  our  friend 
wherever  we  perceive  an  imperfection  that  requires  to  be  removed,  is,  as 
I have  said,  the  highest  duty  of  friendship,  because  it  is  a duty  that  has 
for  its  object  the  highest  good  which  it  is  in  our  power  to  confer ; and 
he  who  refrains  from  the  necessary  endeavor,  because  he  fears  to  give 
pain  to  one  whom  he  loves,  is  guilty  of  the  same  weakness  which  in  a 
case  of  bodily  accident  or  disease  would  withhold  the  salutary  potion 
because  it  is  nauseous,  or  the  surgical  operation  which  is  to  preserve  life, 
and  to  preserve  it  with  comfort,  because  the  use  of  the  instrument  which 
is  to  be  attended  with  relief  and  happiness  implies  a little  momentary  ad- 
dition of  suffering.  To  abstain  from  every  moral  effort  of  this  sort  in  tho 
mere  fear  of  offending,  is,  from  the  selfishness  of  tho  motive,  a still 
greater  breach  of  duty,  and  almost,  too,  a still  greater  weakness.  Ho 
whom  we  truly  offend  by  such  gentle  admonitions  as  friendship  dictates, 
admonitions  of  which  the  chief  authority  is  sought  in  the  very  excel- 
lence of  him  whom  we  wish  to  make  still  more  excellent,  is  not  worthy 
of  the  friendship  which  wo  have  wasted  on  him ; and  if  wo  thus  lose  his 
friendship  we  are  delivered  from  one  who  could  not  be  sincere  in  his  past 
professions  of  regard,  and  whose  treachery  therefore  we  might  afterward 
have  had  reason  to  lament.  If  he  be  worthy  of  us  he  will  not  love  us 
less,  but  love  us  more ; ho  will  feel  that  we  have  done  that  which  it  was 
our  duty  to  do,  and  we  shall  have  the  double  gratification  of  witnessing 
the  amendment  which  wo  desired,  and  of  knowing  that  we  have  con- 
tributed to  an  effect  which  was  almost  like  the  removal  of  a vice  from 
ourselves,  or  a virtue  added  to  our  own  moral  character." — Dr.  Brown’s 
“ Moral  Philosophy,”  lecture  Ixxxix. 


CHAP.  XXV. 


CICERO  ON  ERIENDSHIF. 


209 


feel,  but  feel  that  from  whicli  they  ought  to  be  free  ; for  they  are 
not  distressed  because  they  have  done  wrong ; but  take  it  amiss 
that  they  are  rebuked : whereas,  on  the  contrary,  they  ought  to 
be  sorry  for  their  misconduct,  and  to  be  glad  at  its  correction. 

XXV.  As,  therefore,  both  to  give  and  to  receive  advice  is 
the  characteristic  of  true  friendship,  and  that  the  one  should 
perform  his  part  with  freedom  but  not  harshly,  and  the 
other  should  receive  it  patiently  and  not  with  recrimination ; 
so  it  should  be  considered  that  there  is  no  greater  bane  to 
friendship  than  adulation,  fawning,  and  flattery.^  For  this 
vice  should  be  branded  under  as  many  names  as  possible, 
being  that  of  worthless  and  designing  men,  who  say  every 
thing  with  a view  of  pleasing,  and  nothing  with  regard  to 
truth.  Now  while  hypocrisy  in  all  things  is  blamable  (for 
it  does  away  with  all  judgment  of  truth,  and  adulterates 
truth  itself),  so  especially  is  it  repugnant  to  friendship,  for  it 
destroys  all  truth,  without  which  the  name  of  friendship  can 
avail  nothing.  For  since  the  power  of  friendship  consists  in 
this,  that  one  soul  is  as  it  were  made  of  many,  how  could 
that  take  place  if  there  should  not  be  in  any  one  a soul,  one 
and  the  same  always,  but  fickle,  changeable,  and  manifold? 
For  what  can  be  so  pliant,  so  inconsistent,  as  the  soul  of  that 
man,  who  veers  not  only  to  the  feelings  and  wishes,  but  even 
to  the  look  and  very  nod  of  another.  “ Does  any  one  say, 
‘ Xo  ?’  so  do  I ; says  any,  ‘ Yes  ?’  so  do  I : in  a word,  I have 


^ “ He  that  is  too  desirous  to  be  loved,”  says  Dr.  Johnson,  “will  soon 
learn  to  flatter ; and  when  he  has  exhausted  all  the  variations  of  honest 
praise,  and  can  delight  no  longer  with  the  civility  of  truth,  he  will  invent 
new  topics  of  panegyric,  and  break  out  into  raptures  at  virtues  and 
beauties  conferred  by  himself.  It  is  scarcely  credible  to  what  degree 
discernment  may  be  dazzled  by  the  mist  of  pride,  and  wisdom  infatuated 
by  the  intoxication  of  flattery ; or  how  low  the  genius  may  descend  by 
successive  gradations  of  servility,  and  how  swiftly  it  may  fall  down  the 
precipice  of  falsehood.  No  man  can  indeed  observe  without  indignation 
on  what  names,  both  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  the  utmost  exube- 
rance of  praise  has  been  lavished,  and  by  what  hands  it  has  been  be- 
stowed. It  has  never  yet  been  found  that  the  tyrant,  the  plunderer,  the 
oppressor,  the  most  hateful  of  the  hateful,  the  most  profligate  of  the 
profligate,  have  been  denied  any  celebrations  which  they  were  willing  to 
purchase,  or  that  wickedness  and  folly  have  not  found  correspondent 
flatterers  through  all  their  subordinations,  except  when  they  have  been 
associated  with  avarice  or  poverty,  and  have  wanted  either  inclination 
or  ability  to  hire  a panegyrist.” — Rambler,  No.  104. 


21G 


CICERO  OX  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XXV. 


charged  myself  to  assent  to  every  thing,”  ^ as  the  same 
Terence  says ; but  he  speaks  in  the  character  of  Gnatho," 
and  to  select  a friend  of  this  character  is  an  act  of  down- 
right folly.  And  there  are  many  like  Gnatho,  though  his 
superiors  in  rank,  fortune,  and  character;  the  flattery  of 
such  people  is  oftensive  indeed,  since  respectability  is  associ- 
ated with  duplicity.  Now,  a fawning  friend  may  be  distin- 
guished from  a true  one,  and  discerned  by  the  employment 
of  diligence,  just  as  every  thing  which  is  falsely  colored  and 
counterfeit,  from  what  is  genuine  and  true.  The  assembly 
of  the  people,  which  consists  of  the  most  ignorant  persons, 
yet  can  decide  what  difierence  there  is  between  the  seeker 
after  popular  applause,  the  flatterer  and  the  worthless  citizen, 
and  one  who  is  consistent,  dignified,  and  worthy.  With  what 
flatteries  did  Curius  Papirius  lately  insinuate  himself  into 
the  ears  of  the  assembly,  when  he  sought  to  pass  an  act  to 
re-elect  the  tribunes  of  the  people  ? I opposed  it.  But 
I say  nothing  of  myself ; I speak  with  greater  pleasure  con- 
cerning Scipio.  0 immortal  gods  ! what  dignity  was  his  ! 
what  majesty  in  his  speech  ! so  that  you  might  readily  pro- 
nounce him  the  leader  of  the  Koman  people,  and  not  their 
associate : but  you  were  present,  and  the  speech  is  still 
extant : accordingly,  this  act,  meant  to  please  the  people,  w^as 
rejected  by  the  votes  of  the  people.  But,  to  return  to 
myself,  you  remember  when  Quintus  Maximus,  brother  of 
Scipio,  and  Lucius  Mancius  were  consuls,  how  popular  the 
sacerdotal  act  of  Caius  Licinius  Crassus  seem  to  be ; for 

^ Shakespeare  has  exhibited  a precisely  similar  character  in  the  follow- 
ing dialogue  between  Hamlet  and  Osrick: — 

“ Ham.  Your  bonnet  to  its  right  use ; ’t  is  for  the  head. — Os.  I thank 
your  lordship,  ’tis  very  hot. — Ham.  No,  believe  me,  ’tis  very  cold;  the 
wind  is  northerly. — Os.  It  is  indifferent  cold,  my  lord,  indeed. — Ham. 
But  yet,  methinks,  it  is  very  sultry  hot ; or  my  complexion — Os.  Ex- 
ceedingly, my  lord,  it  is  very  sultry,  as  it  were — I can  not  tell  how.”— • 
Hamlet,  V.,  Scene  2. 

So  Juvenal  too : — 

“ Natio  comoeda  est.  Rides?  Major  cachinno 
Concutitur.  Flet,  si  lachrymas  conspexit  amici 
Nec  dolet ; igniculum  brumae  si  tempore  poscas 
Accipit  endromidem : si  dixeris,  aestuo,  sudat.” 

Sat.  III.  Vcr.  100-103. 

2 Gnatho^  a parasite  in  tho  Eunuch  of  Terence 


CHAP.  XXYL 


CICERO  OK  ERIENDSHIP. 


211 


tlie  election'  of  the  college  was  thereby  transferred  to  the 
presentation  of  the  people.  And  he  first  commenced  the 
practice  of  turning  toward  the  forum,  and  addressing  the 
people.^  And  yet  regard  for  the  immortal  gods,  under  my 
advocacy,  gained  an  easy  triumph  over  his  plausible^  address. 
Now  this  occurred  in  my  prsetorship,  five  years  before  I was 
consul ; so  that  that  cause  was  supported  rather  by  its  own 
importance  than  by  supreme  influence. 

XXVI.  Now,  if  upon  the  stage,  that  is,  before  the  as- 
sembly, where  every  advantage  is  given  to  fictions  and 
imitations,  yet  the  truth  prevails  (if  only  it  be  set  forth  and 
illustrated),  what  ought  to  be  the  case  in  friendship,  which 
is  measured  according  to  simple  truth  ? for  in  it  (as  the  say- 
ing is)  ye  see  an  open  heart  and  show  your  own  also  ; you 
can  have  nothing  faithful,  nothing  certain ; and  you  can  not 
love  or  be  loved,  since  you  are  uncertain  how  far  it  is  sin- 
cerely done.  And  yet  that  flattery,  however  pernicious  it 
be,  can  hurt  no  one  but  the  man  who  receives  it  and  is 
most  delighted  with  himself.  Hence  it  happens  that  he 
opens  his  ears  widest  to  flatteries  who  is  a flatterer  of  him- 
self, and  takes  the  highest  delight  in  himself:  no  doubt 
virtue  loves  herself,  for  she  is  best  acquainted  with  herself, 
and  is  conscious  how  amiable  she  is : but  I am  not  speaking 
of  virtue,  but  of  a conceit  of  virtue  ; for  not  so  many  desire 
to  be  endowed  with  virtue  itself,  as  to  seem  to  be  so.  Flat- 
tery delights  such  men : when  conversation  formed  to  their 
wishes  is  addressed  to  such  persons,  they  think  those  deceit- 
ful addresses  to  be  the  evidence  of  their  merits.  This, 
therefore,  is  not  friendship  at  all,  when  one  party  is  unwilling 
to  hear  the  truth,  and  the  other  prepared  to  speak  falsely. 
Xor  would  the  flattery  of  parasites  in  comedies  seem  to  us 
facetious,  unless  there  were  swaggering  soldiers  also.  “ Does 
then  Thais  pay  me  many  thanks  ? It  was  enough  to  answer' 
‘ yes,  many but  he  says  ‘ infinite.’  ” The  flatterer  always 
exaggerates  that  which  he,  for  whose  pleasure  he  speaks, 
wishes  to  be  great.  Although  the  flattering  falsehood  may 

' Cooptatio^  tho  election  of  new  members  into  the  priesthood.  Tlie 
different  orders  of  priests  were  self-elected,  so  that  the  proposed  law  of 
Cassius  was  an  infringement  of  vested  rights  and  privileges. 

Agere  cum  populo,  to  tamper  with,  or  to  curry  favor  with  the  people. 

* Vendibilis^  plausible,  popular. 


21 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAK  XXYIL 


have  influence  with  those  who  themselves  allure  and  invito 
it ; yet  more  steady  and  consistent  persons  require  to  bo 
warned  that  they  take  care  lest  they  are  entrapped  by  such 
crafty  flattery ; for  every  one,  except  the  man  who  is  extremely 
obtuse,  observes  the  person  who  openly  employs  adulation 
But  lest  the  crafty  and  insidious  man  should  insinuate  him- 
self, you  mut  be  studiously  on  your  guard  ; for  he  is  not  very 
easily  recognized,  seeing  that  he  offen  flatters  by  opposing ; 
and  pretending  that  he  quarrels,  is  fawning  all  the  time,  and 
at  last  surrenders  himself,  and  allows  himself  to  be  beaten  : so 
that  he  who  has  been  deluded  may  fancy  that  he  has  seen 
further  than  the  other ; for  what  can  be  more  disgraceful  than 
to  be  deluded  ? And  lest  this  happen,  we  must  be  more 
cautious,  as  it  is  said  in  the  Epiclerus,  “ To-day,  above  all  the 
foolish  old  fellows  of  the  comedy,  you  will  have  deceived  me 
and  played  upon  me  in  a most  amusing  manner.”  For  this 
is  the  most  foolish  character  of  all  in  the  plays,  that  of  un- 
thinking and  credulous  old  men.  But  I know  not  how  it 
is  that  my  address,  passing  from  the  friendship  of  perfect 
men,  that  is  of  the  wise  (for  I speak  of  that  wisdom  which 
seems  within  the  reach  of  man),  has  digressed  into  frivo- 
lous friendships.  Wherefore,  let  me  return  to  that  from 
which  I set  out,  and  bring  these  remarks  at  length  to  a con- 
clusion. 

XXVII.  It  is  virtue,  virtue  I say,  Caius  Fannius,  and  you, 
Quintus  Mucius  that  both  wins  friendship  and  preserves  it ; 
for  in  it  is  found  the  power  of  adapting  one’s  self  to  circum- 
stances, and  also  steadfastness  and  consistency  and  when 

1 The  necessity  of  virtue,  then,  in  every  bosom  of  which  we  resolve  to 
share  the  feelings,  would  be  sufficiently  evident,  thougli  we  were  to  con- 
sider those  feelings  only ; but  all  the  participation  is  not  to  be  on  our 
part.  We  are  to  place  confidence,  as  well  as  to  receive  it ; wo  are  not 
to  be  comforters  only,  but  sometimes  too  the  comforted ; and  our  own 
conduct  may  require  the  defense  which  we  are  sufficiently  ready  to  afford 
to  the  conduct  of  our  friend.  Even  with  respect  to  the  pleasure  of  the 
friendship  itself,  if  it  be  a pleasure  on  which  we  set  a high  value,  it  is  not 
a slight  consideration  whether  it  bo  fixed  on  one  whose  regard  is  likely 
to  be  as  stable  as  ours,  or  on  one  who  may  in  a few  months,  or  perhaps 
even  in  a few  weeks,  withhold  from  us  the  very  pleasure  of  that  intimacy 
which  before  had  been  profusely  lavished  on  us.  In  every  one  of  these 
respects  I need  not  point  out  to  you  the  manifest  superiority  of  virtue 
over  vice.  Virtue  only  is  stable,  because  virtue  only  is  consistent  and  the 
caprice  which,  under  a momentary  impulse,  begins  in  eager  intimar> 


CHAP.  XXVIx. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


213 


she  has  exalted  herself  and  displayed  her  own  effulgence,  and 
hath  beheld  the  same  and  recognized  it  in  another,  she  moves 
toward  it,  and  in  her  turn  receives  that  which  is  in  the  other ; 
from  which  is  kindled  love  or  friendship,  for  both  derive 
their  name  from  loving ; for  to  love  is  nothing  else  than  to  be 
attached  to  the  person  whom  you  love,  without  any  sense 
of  want,  without  any  advantage  being  sought ; and  yet  advan- 
tage  springs  up  of  itself  from  friendship,  even  though  you  may 
not  have  pursued  it.  It  was  with  kind  feelings  of  this  de- 
scription that  I,  when  young,  was  attached  to  those  old  men, 
Lucius  Paullus,  Marcus  Cato,  Caius  Callus,  Publius  Nasi c a 
and  Tiberius  Gracchus,^  the  father-in-law  of  our  friend 
Scipio.  This  is  even  more  strikingly  obvious  between  per- 

with  one,  as  it  began  it  from  an  impulse  as  momentary  with  another, 
will  soon  find  a third,  with  whom  it  may  again  begin  it  with  the  same 
exclusion,  for  the  moment,  of  every  previous  attachment.  Nothing  can 
be  juster  than  the  observation  of  Rousseau  on  these  hasty  starts  of  kind- 
ness, that,  ‘ he  who  treats  us  at  first  sight  like  a friend  of  twenty  years’ 
standing,  will  very  probably  at  the  end  of  twenty  years  treat  us  as  a 
stranger  if  we  have  any  important  service  to  request  of  him.’ 

“If  without  virtue  we  have  little  to  hope  in  stability,  have  we  even, 
while  the  semblance  of  friendship  lasts,  much  more  to  hope  as  to  those 
services  of  kindness  which  we  may  need  from  our  friends  ? The  secrets 
which  it  may  be  of  no  importance  to  divulge,  all  may  keep  with  equal 
fidelity ; because  nothing  is  to  be  gained  by  circulating  what  no  man 
would  take  sufficient  interest  in  hearing,  to  remember  after  it  was  heard ; 
but  if  the  secret  be  of  a kind  which,  if  made  known,  would  gain  the  favor 
of  some  one  whose  favor  it  would  be  more  profitable  to  gain  than  retain 
ours,  can  we  expect  fidelity  from  a mind  that  thinks  only  of  what  is  to 
be  gained  by  vice,  in  the  great  social  market  of  moral  feelings,  not  of 
what  it  is  right  to  do  ? Can  we  expect  consolation  in  our  affliction  from 
one  who  regards  our  adversity  only  as  a sign  that  there  is  nothing  more 
to  be  hoped  from  our  intimacy ; or  trust  our  virtues  to  the  defense  of 
him  who  defends  or  assails,  as  interest  prompts,  and  who  may  see  his 
interest  in  representing  us  as  guilty  of  the  very  crimes  with  which 
slander  has  loaded  us  ? In  such  cases  we  have  no  title  to  complain  of 
the  treacheries  of  friendship;  for  it  was  not  friendship  in  which  wo 
trusted : the  treachery  is  as  much  the  fault  of  the  deceived  as  of  the  de- 
ceiver ; we  have  ourselves  violated  some  of  the  most  important  duties 
of  friendship;  the  duties  which  relate  to  its  commencement.” — Moral 
Philosophy,  Lect.  Ixxxix. 

^ T.  Gracchus^  who  with  his  brother,  C.  Gracchus,  excited  great  tu- 
mults about  the  Agrarian  law.  He  was  slain  for  his  seditious  conduct 
by  P.  Nasica.  His  name  has  passed  into  a by-word  for  a factious  dema^ 
gogue.  It  is  thus  applied  by  Juvenal: — 

“ Quis  tulerit  Gracchos  de  seditione  querentes  ?” 


214 


CICERO  ON  ERIENDSHIP. 


CHAP.  XXVII. 


sons  of  the  same  age,  as  between  me  and  Scipio,  Lucius 
Furius,  Publius  Rupilius,  and  Spurius  Mummius : and  now 
in  turn,  in  my  old  age  I repose  in  tbe  attachment  of  younger 
men,  as  in  yours  and  that  of  Quintus  Tubero ; nay,  I even 
take  delight  in  the  familiarity  of  some  that  are  very  young, 
of  Publius  Rutilius  and  Aulius  Virginius.  And  since  the 
course  of  our  life  and  nature  is  so  directed  that  a new  period 
is  ever  arising,  it  is  especially  to  be  wished  that  with  those 
comrades  with  whom  you  set  out,  as  it  were,  from  the  start- 
ing, with  the  same  you  may,  as  they  say,  arrive  at  the  goal. 
But,  since  human  affairs  are  frail  and  fleeting,  some  persons 
must  ever  be  sought  for  whom  we  may  love,  and  by  whom 
we  may  be  loved ; for  when  affection  and  kind  feeling  are 
done  away  with,  all  cheerfulness  likewise  is  banished  from 
existence.  To  me,  indeed,  though  he  was  suddenly  snatched 
away,  Scipio  still  lives,  and  will  always  live ; for  I love  the 
virtue  of  that  man,  and  that  worth  is  not  yet  extinguished : 
and  not  before  my  eyes  only  is  it  presented,  who  ever  had  it 
in  possession,  but  even  with  posterity  it  will  be  illustrious 
and  renowned ; for  never  shall  any  undertake  any  high 
achievements  with  spirit  and  hope,  without  feeling  that  the 
memory  and  the  character  of  that  man  should  be  placed 
before  him.  Assuredly,  of  all  things  that  either  fortune  or 
nature  has  bestowed  on  me,  I have  none  which  I can  compare 
with  the  friendship  of  Scipio.^  In  it  I had  concurrence  in 
politics,  and  in  it  advice  for  my  private  affairs.  In  it  also, 

^ This  confession  is  not  confined  to  Cicero  or  his  age.  Lord  Clarendon 
was  often  heard  to  say,  “ that  next  to  the  immediate  blessing  and  provii 
dence  of  God  Almighty,  which  had  preserved  him  throughout  the  whole 
course  of  this  life  from  many  dangers  and  disadvantages,  in  which  many 
other  young  men  were  lost,  he  owed  all  the  little  he  knew,  and  the  little 
good  that  was  in  him,  to  the  friendship  and  conversation  he  still  had 
been  used  to,  of  the  most  excellent  men  in  their  several  kinds  that  lived 
in  that  age,  by  whose  learning  and  information  and  instruction  he  form- 
ed his  studies  and  mended  his  understanding,  and  by  whose  example  ho 
formed  his  manners,  subdued  that  pride,  and  suppressed  that  heat  and 
passion  he  was  naturally  inclined  to  be  transported  with : and  always 
charged  his  children  to  follow  his  example  in  that  point,  protesting,  that 
in  the  whole  course  of  his  life  he  never  knew  one  man,  of  what  condition 
soever,  arrive  to  any  degree  of  reputation  in  the  world,  who  made  choico 
or  delighted  in  the  company  or  conversation  of  those  who,  in  their  quali- 
ties and  their  parts  were  not  much  superior  to  himself” — Clarendon’s 
Memoirs  of  his  own  Life. 


CHAP.  XXVI. 


CICERO  ON  FRIENDSHIP. 


215 


I possessed  a repose  replete  witli  pleasure.  Never  iu  the 
slightest  degree  did  I offend  him,  at  least  so  far  as  I was 
aware  ; never  did  I myself  hear  a word  from  him  that  I was 
unwilling  to  hear : we  had  one  house  between  us,  the  same 
food,  and  that  common  to  both  ; and  not  only  service  abroad, 
but  even  our  traveling  and  visits  to  the  country  were  in  com- 
mon. For  what  need  I say  of  our  constant  pursuits  of  knowl- 
edge and  learning,  in  which,  retired  from  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  we  spent  all  our  leisure  time  ? Now,  if  the  recollection 
and  memory  of  these  things  had  died  along  with  him,  I could 
in  no  wise  have  borne  the  loss  of  that  most  intimate  and  affec- 
tionate friend ; but  these  things  have  not  perished,  yea,  they 
are  rather  cherished  and  improved  by  reflection  and  memory ; ^ 
and  even  if  I were  altogether  bereft  of  them,  yet  would  age 
itself  bring  me  much  comfort,  for  I can  not  now  very  long  suf- 
fer these  regrets.  Now  all  afflictions,  if  brief,  ought  to  bo 
tolerable,  howsoever  great  they  may  be.  Such  are  the  remarks 
I had  to  make  on  friendship.  But  as  for  you,  I exhort  you  to 
lay  the  foundations  of  virtue,  without  which  friendship  can  not 
exist,  in  such  a manner  that,  with  this  one  exception,  you  may 
consider  that  nothing  in  the  world  is  more  excellent  than 
friendship. 

^ “The  pleasures  resulting  from  the  mutual  attachment  of  kindred 
spirits  are  by  no  means  confined  to  the  moments  of  personal  intercourse ; 
they  diffuse  their  odors,  though  more  faintly,  through  the  seasons  of 
absence,  refreshing  and  exhilarating  the  mind  by  the  remembrance  of  the 
past  and  the  anticipation  of  the  future.  It  is  a treasure  possessed  when 
it  is  not  employed — a reserve  of  strength,  ready  to  be  called  into  action 
when  most  needed — a fountain  of  sweets,  to  which  we  may  continually 
repair,  whose  waters  are  inexhaustible.” — Robert  Hall’s  Funeral  Sermon 
for  Dr.  Ryland. 


ON  OLD  AGE. 


“ O Titus/  if  I shall  have  assisted  you  at  all,  or  alleviated 
the  anxiety  which  now  fevers,  and,  fixed  in  your  heart,  distracts 
you,  shall  I have  any  reward 

I.  For  I may  address  you,  Atticus,  in  the  same  lines  in 
which  he  addresses  Flaminius, 

“That  man,  not  of  great  property,  but  rich  in  integrity.” 

And  yet  I am  very  sure  that  not,  as  Flaminius, 

“ Are  you,  0 Titus,  so  racked  by  anxiety  night  and  day 

for  I know  the  regularity  and  even  temperament  of  your 
mind ; and  I am  well  aware  that  you  have  derived  not  only 
your  surname  from  Athens,  but  also  refinement  and  wisdom  ; 
and  yet  I suspect  that  you  are  sometimes  too  deeply  affected 
by  the  same  causes  by  which  I myself  am ; the  consolation  of 
which  is  of  a higher  kind,  and  requires  to  be  put  off  to 
another  occasion.^  But  at  present  I have  thought  it  good  to 

1 Titus  Pom'ponius  Atticus,  to  whom  this  treatise  is  addressed,  was  a 
celebrated  Koman  knight.  Cicero  wrote  to  him  a number  of  letters  which 
still  survive.  He  was  surnamed  Atticus  from  his  perfect  knowledge  of 
the  Greek  language  and  literature.  A minute  account  of  his  life  has 
been  written  by  Cornehus  Nepos,  one  of  his  intimate  friends. 

2 “ This  alludes  to  the  disordered  state  of  the  commonwealth  occasion- 
ed by  Julius  Caesar’s  usurpation,  and  the  commotion  consequent  on  his 
death ; the  present  treatise  having  been  written  soon  after  he  was  assas- 
sinated in  the  senate.  No  man  had  more  at  stake  in  these  public  con- 
vulsions than  Cicero ; and  nothing  sets  the  power  of  his  mind  in  a more 
striking  point  of  view  than  his  being  able,  at  such  an  alarming  crisis, 
sufficiently  to  compose  his  thoughts  to  meditations  of  this  kind.  For 
not  only  this  treatise,  but  his  Essay  on  Friendship,  his  dialogues  on  the 
Nature  of  the  Gods,  together  with  those  concerning  Divination,  as  also 
Aia  book  of  Offices,  and  some  other  of  the  most  considerable  of  his  philo- 
sophical writings,  were  drawn  up  within  the  same  turbulent  and  dis- 
tracted peiiod.” — Melmoth. 


CHAP.  II. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


217 


write  to  you  something  on  Old  Age  ; for  of  this  burden  which 
I have  in  common  with  you  of  old  age,  either  now  weighing 
upon,  or  at  any  rate  approaching  us,  I wish  both  you  and 
myself  to  be  relieved,  although  I am  very  sure  that  you 
indeed  bear  it,  and  will  bear  it,  with  temper  and  wisdom  (as 
you  do  all  things).  But  to  my  mind,  when  I was  about  to 
write  an  essay  on  old  age,  you  occurred  as  worthy  of  a gift, 
which  each  of  us  might  enjoy  in  common.  For  my  part  I 
have  found  the  composition  of  this  book  so  delightful,  that  it 
has  not  only  wiped  off  all  the  annoyance  of  old  age,  but  has 
rendered  old  age  even  easy  and  delightful.  Never,  therefore, 
can  philosophy  be  praised  in  a manner  sufficiently  worthy, 
inasmuch  as  he  who  obeys  philosophy  is  able  to  pass  every 
period  of  life  without  irksomeness.  But  upon  other  subjects 
we  both  have  discoursed  much,  and  often  shall  discourse  : this 
book,  on  the  subject  of  old  age,  I have  sent  to  you.  And  all 
the  discourse  we  have  assigned  not  to  Tithonus,^  as  Aristo^  the 
Chian  did,  lest  there  should  be  too  little  of  authority  in  the 
tale  ; but  to  Marcus  Cato,^  when  an  old  man,  that  the  dis- 
course might  carry  with  it  the  greater  weight ; at  whose  house 
we  introduce  Lselius^  and  Scipio,  expressing  their  wonder  that 
he  so  patiently  bears  old  age,  and  him  replying  to  them.  And 
if  he  shall  appear  to  discourse  more  learnedl}'  than  he  himself 
was  accustomed  to  do  in  his  own  books,  ascribe  it  to  Greek 
literature,  of  which  it  is  well  known  that  he  was  very  studious 
in  old  age.  But  what  need  is  there  to  say  more  ? for  now  the 
conversation  of  Cato  himself  shall  unfold  all  my  sentiments  on 
old  age. 

II.  Scipio.  I am  very  often  accustomed  with  my  friend 
here,  C.  Laelius,  to  admire  as  well  your  surpassing  and  ac- 
complished wisdom  in  all  other  matters,  O Marcus  Cato,  as 
also  especially  that  I have  never  j>erceived  old  age  to  be 

^ Tithonus^  son  of  Laomedon,  king  of  Troy.  Ho  was  carried  away  by 
Aurora,  who  made  him  immortal. 

2 Aristo,  a philosopher  of  Chios,  a pupil  of  Zeno  the  Stoic. 

® M.  Gato.  M.  Porcius  Cato  was  a Roman  censor,  famed  for  the  strict- 
ness of  his  morals.  He  died  at  an  advanced  age,  about  b,c.  151.  Ho 
wrote  a work  called  “ Origines,”  i.  e.,  antiquities,  some  fragments  of 
which  are  still  extant. 

4 Lcelium,  C.  Leehus,  a Roman  consul,  A.u.c.  614.  He  was  the  inti- 
mate friend  of  Africanus  the  younger,  and  is  the  principal  character  in 
Cicero’s  treatise,  “De  Amicitia.” 


10 


218 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  II, 


burdensome  to  you ; which  to  most  old  men  is  so  disagree- 
able, that  they  say  they  support  a burden  heavier  than  ^tna. 
Cato.  It  is  not  a very  difficult  matter,  Scipio,  and  Lselius, 
which  you  seem  to  be  surprised  at ; for  to  those  who  have 
no  resource  in  themselves  for  living  well  and  happily,  every 
age  is  burdensome ; but  to  those  who  seek  all  good  things 
from  themselves,  nothing  can  appear  evil  which  the  necessity 
of  nature  entails ; in  which  class  particularly  is  old  age,  which 
all  men  wish  to  attain,  and  yet  they  complain  of  it  when  they 
have  attained  it ; so  great  is  the  inconsistency  and  wayward- 
ness of  folly.  They  say  that  it  steals  over  them  more  quickly 
than  they  had  supposed.  Now,  first  of  all,  who  compelled 
them  to  form  a false  estimate  of  its  progress  ? for  how  does 
old  age  more  quickly  steal  upon  youth,  than  youth  upon  boy- 
hood ? Then,  again,  how  would  old  age  be  less  burdensome  to 
them,  if  they  were  in  their  800th  year  than  in  their  80th  ? for 
the  past  time,  however  long,  when  it  had  flowed  away,  would 
not  be  able  to  soothe  with  any  consolation  an  old  age  of  folly. 
Wherefore,  if  you  are  accustomed  to  admire  my  wisdom — 
and  I would  that  it  were  worthy  of  your  high  opinion  and 
my  surname — ^in  this  I am  Avise  that  I follow  nature,  that 
best  guide,  as  a god,  and  am  obedient  to  her ; ^ by  whom  it 
is  not  likely,  when  the  other  parts  of  life  have  been  well 
represented,  that  the  last  act  should  have  been  ill  done,  as  it 
v/ere,  by  an  indolent  poet.  But  yet  it  was  necessary  that  there 
should  be  something  final,  and,  as  in  the  berries  of  trees  and 
the  fruits  of  the  earth,  something  withered  and  falling  through 
seasonable  ripeness ; which  must  be  taken  quietly  by  a wise 
man  : for  Avhat  else  is  it,  to  war  with  nature,  than,  after  the 
manner  of  the  giants,  to  fight  with  the  gods  ? L^lius.  But, 
Cato,  you  will  do  a very  great  favor  to  us,  as  I may  also 
engage  on  behalf  of  Scipio,  if  inasmuch  as  we  hope,  or  at 

^ “ The  acknowledgment  of  the  intention  of  the  Creator  as  the  proper 
rule  of  man’s  actions,  has  sometimes  been  expressed  by  saying  that  men 
ought  to  live  according  to  nature,  and  that  virtue  and  duty  are  according 
to  nature,  vice  and  moral  transgression  contrary  to  nature ; for  man’s 
nature  is  a constitution  in  which  reason  and  desire  are  elements,  but  of 
these  elements  it  was  plainly  intended  that  reason  should  control  desire, 
not  that  desire  should  overmaster  reason.” — Whewell’s  Elements  of 
Morality,  book  iv.  cap.  10. 

Seneca  also  has  a similar  idea:  “Quid  enim  aliud  est  natura  quara 
dcus  et  divina  ratio  toti  mundo  et  partibus  cjus  inserta.” — Do  Benef.  iv.  7. 


CHAP.  III. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


219 


least  desire,  to  become  old  men,  we  shall  have  learned  long 
before  from  you  by  what  methods  we  may  most  easily  be 
able  to  bear  the  increasing  burden  of  age.  Cato.  Well,  I 
\vdll  do  so,  Laelius ; especially  if,  as  you  say,  it  is  likely  to  be 
pleasant  to  each  of  you.  Scipio.  In  truth  we  wish,  unless 
it  be  irksome,  Cato,  just  as  if  you  had  completed  some  long 
journey,  on  which  we  also  must  enter,  to  see  of  what  nature 
that  spot  is  at  which  you  have  arrived. 

III.  Cato.  I will  do  it  as  well  as  I shall  be  able,  Lselius ; 
for  I have  often  been  present  at  the  complaints  of  men  of  my 
own  age  (and  equals  with  equals,  according  to  the  old  proverb, 
most  easily  flock  together),  and  have  heard  the  things  which 
Caius  Salinator  and  Spurious  Albinus,  men  of  consular  rank, 
and  nearly  of  my  age,  were  wont  to  deplore : on  the  one  hand, 
that  they  had  no  pleasures,  without  which  they  thought  life 
was  valueless ; on  the  other,  that  they  were  neglected  by  those 
by  whom  they  had  been  accustomed  to  be  courted,  in  which 
they  appeared  to  me  not  to  accuse  that  which  deserved  ac- 
cusation ; for  if  that  happened  from  the  fault  of  old  age,  the 
same  things  would  be  experienced  by  me  and  all  others 
advanced  in  years : and  yet  the  old  age  of  many  of  them  I 
have  remarked  to  be  without  complaint,  who  were  not 
grieved  to  be  let  free  from  the  thralldom  of  the  passions,  and 
were  not  looked  down  upon  by  their  friends ; but  of  all  com- 
j)laints  of  this  kind,  the  fault  lies  in  the  character  of  the  man, 
not  in  his  age.  For  old  men  of  regulated  minds,  and  neither 
testy  nor  ill-natured,  pass  a very  tolerable  old  age.  But  a 
discontented  and  ill-natured  disposition  is  irksome  in  eveiy 
agc.^  L^lius.  It  is  as  you  say,  Cato.  But  perhaps  some 

^ “It  may  very  reasonably  be  suspeeted  that  the  old  draw  upon  them- 
selves the  great  part  of  those  insults  which  they  so  much  lament ; and 
that  age  is  rarely  despised  but  when  it  is  contemptible.  If  men  imagine 
that  excess  of  debauchery  can  be  made  reverend  by  time ; that  knowledge 
is  the  consequence  of  long  life,  however  idly  and  thoughtlessly  employ- 
ed ; that  priority  of  birth  will  supply  the  want  of  steadiness  or  honesty, 
can  it  raise  much  wonder  that  their  hopes  are  disappointed,  and  that  they 
see  their  posterity  rather  willing  to  trust  their  own  eyes  in  their  progress 
into  life,  than  enlist  themselves  under  guides  who  have  lost  their  way  ? 

“He  that  would  pass  the  latter  part  of  life  with  honor  and  decency, 
must,  when  he  is  young,  consider  that  he  shall  one  day  be  old  ; and  re- 
member, when  he  is  old,  that  he  has  once  been  young.  In  youth  he  must 
lay  up  knowledge  for  his  support,  when  his  powers  of  acting  shall  forsake 
him ; and  in  age  forbear  to  animadvert  with  rigor  on  faults  which  expe- 
rience only  can  correct.” — Johnson’s  Rambler,  No.  50. 


220 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  ir. 


one  may  say,  that  to  you,  on  account  of  your  wealth,  and 
resources,  and  dignity,  old  age  appears  better  to  endure,  but 
that  this  can  not  be  the  lot  of  many.  Cato.  That  to  be  sure, 
Laelius,  is  something,  but  all  things  are  by  no  means  involved 
in  it : as  Themistocles  is  said  to  have  replied  to  a certain  man 
of  Seriphus^  in  a dispute,  when  the  other  had  said  that  he  had 
gained  distinction,  not  by  his  own  glory,  but  by  that  of  his 
country ; neither,  by  Hercules,  said  he,  if  I had  been  a man 
of  Seriphus,  should  I ever  have  been  eminent,  nor  if  you 
had  been  an  Athenian,  would  you  ever  have  been  renowned. 
Which,  in  like  manner,  can  be  said  about  old  age.  For 
neither  can  old  age  be  easy  in  extreme  poverty,  not  even  to 
a wise  man ; nor  to  a foolish  man,  even  in  the  greatest 
plenty,  otherwise  than  burdensome.  The  fittest  arms  of  old 
age,  Scipio  and  Lselius,  are  the  attainment  and  practice  of 
the  virtues ; which,  if  cultivated  at  every  period  of  life,  pro- 
duce wonderful  fruits  when  you  have  lived  to  a great  age ; 
not  only,  inasmuch  as  they  never  fail,  not  even  in  the  last 
period  of  life — and  yet  that  is  a very  great  point — but  also 
because  the  consciousness  of  a life  well  spent,  and  the  recol- 
lection of  many  virtuous  actions,  is  most  delightful.^ 

IV.  I,  when  a young  man,  was  as  fond  of  Quintus  Maxi- 
mus,^ the  same  who  recovered  Tarentum,  though  an  old 
man,  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  my  own  age.  For  there 

^ Seriphus  was  a barren  island,  or  rock,  in  the  uEgean  Sea,  used  by 
the  Romans  as  a place  of  banishment  for  criminals : 

“ Cui  vix  in  Cyclada  mitti 
Contigit,  et  parva  tandem  caruisse  Seripho.” 

Juvenal,  6th  Sat.  56.  lib.  iii. 

2 “As  to  all  the  rational  and  worthy  pleasures  of  our  being,  the  con- 
science of  a good  fame,  the  contemplation  of  another  life,  the  respect  and 
commerce  of  honest  men ; our  capacities  for  such  enjoyments  are  enlarged 
by  years.  While  health  endures,  the  latter  part  of  life,  in  the  eye  of 
reason,  is  certainly  the  more  eligible.  The  memory  of  a well-spent  youth 
gives  a peaceable,  unmixed,  and  elegant  pleasure  to  the  mind ; and  to 
such  who  are  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  be  able  to  look  back  on  youth 
with  satisfaction,  they  may  give  themselves  no  little  consolation  that 
they  are  under  no  temptation  to  repeat  their  ^follies,  and  that  they  at 
present  despise  them.” — Spectator,  No.  153. 

3 Quintus  Maximus^  a Roman  general  of  the  Fabian  family,  who  re- 
ceived the  surname  of  Cunctator  from  his  harassing  Hannibal  by  delays. 
After  the  battle  of  Cannse,  he  retook  Tarentum  from  the  Carthaginians. 
Virgil  alludes  to  him  in  a passage  quoted  from  Ennius,  in  tho  .^Eneid, 
Book  vi.  846,  “Unus  qui  nobis  cunctando  restituit  rem.” 


CHAP.  lY. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AOE. 


221 


was  in  that  man  dignity  refined  by  courtesy ; nor  had  old 
age  changed  his  character.  And  yet  I began  to  cultivate 
his  acquaintance  when  he  was  not  a very  old  man,  but  still 
when  somewhat  advanced  in  age.  For  he  had  been  consul 
for  the  first  time  in  the  year  after  I was  born,  and  in  his 
fourth  consulship  I,  then  a stripling,  marched  with  him  as 
a soldier  to  Capua,  and  in  the  fifth  year  after,  as  qusestor  to 
Tarentum ; I was  next  made  sedile,  and  four  years  afterward 
praetor,  an  office  which  I held  in  the  consulship  of  Tudi- 
tanus'  and  Cethegus,  when  he,  a very  old  man,  was  the 
promoter  of  the  Cincian^  law,  about  fees  and  presents.  He 
both  carried  on  campaigns  like  a young  man  when  he  was 
quite  old,  and  by  his  temper  cooled  Hannibal  when  im- 
petuous from  the  fire  of  youth,  about  whom  our  friend 
Ennius  has  admirably  spoken  : — ‘‘  Who  alone,  by  delay  re- 
trieved our  state ; for  he  did  not  value  rumor  above  our 
safety,  therefore  brighter  and  brighter  is  now  the  glory  of 
that  man.”  And  with  what  vigilance,  with  what  talent  did 
he  recover  Tarentum  ? When  too,  in  my  hearing,  as  Sali- 
nator,  who,  after  losing  the  town,  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
citadel,  was  boasting  and  speaking  thus : “ It  was  owing  to  my 
exertions,  Quintus  Fabius,  that  you  recovered  Tarentum.” 
“ Unquestionably,”  said  he,  laughing,  for  unless  you  had  lost 
it,  I should  never  have  regained  it.”  FTor  in  truth  was  he  more 
excellent  in  arms  than  in  civil  aftairs;  for,  in  his  second 
consulship,  when  Spurius  Carvilius,  his  colleague,  was  neuter, 
he  made  a stand  to  the  utmost  of  his  power  against  Caius 
Flaminius,  tribune  of  the  commons,  when  he  was  for  dis- 
tributing the  Picenian  and  Gallic  land  to  individuals,  con- 
trary to  the  authority  of  the  senate ; and  when  he  was  augur, 
he  had  the  spirit  to  say  that  those  things  were  performed 
with  the  best  auspices  which  were  performed  for  the  welfare 
of  the  commonwealth ; that  those  things  which  were  un- 
dertaken against  the  commonwealth  were  undertaken  in 
opposition  to  the  auspices.^  Many  excellent  points  have  I 

^ Consulibus  Tuditano,  etc.  a.u.c.  550. 

2 A law  enacted  by  M,  Cincius,  tribune  of  the  people,  A.u.o.  549.  By 
this  law  no  one  was  allowed  to  receive  a present  for  pleading  a cause. 

3 “Homer,”  says  Melmoth,  “puts  a sentiment  of  the  same  spirited 
kind  into  the  mouth  of  Hector.  That  gallant  prince,  endeavoring  to 
force  the  Grecian  intrenchments,  is  exhorted  by  Polydamas  to  discon- 
tinue the  attack,  on  occasion  of  an  unfavorable  omen  which  appears  on 


222 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  V. 


remarked  in  that  man : but  there  is  nothing  more  deserving 
of  admiration  than  the  way  in  which  he  bore  the  death  of 
his  son  Marcus,  an  illustrious  man,  and  one  of  consular  rank. 
The  panegyric  he  pronounced  is  still  in  our  hands ; which 
when  we  read,  what  philosopher  do  we  not  despise  ? nor, 
in  truth,  was  he  great  only  in  public  and  in  the  eyes  of 
his  fellow-citizens,  but  still  more  admirable  in  private  and 
at  home.  What  conversation ! what  maxims ! what  deep 
acquaintance  with  ancient  history!  what  knowledge  of  the 
law  of  augury  1 his  learning  too,  for  a Roman,  was  extensive. 
He  retained  in  memory  all,  not  only  domestic  but  foreign 
wars;  and  I at  that  time  enjoyed  his  conversation  with  as 
much  avidity  as  if  I was  already  divining  that  which  came 
to  pass,  that  when  he  was  gone,  there  would  be  none  other 
for  me  to  learn  from. 

V.  To  what  end  then  do  I say  so  much  about  Maximus  ? 
because  doubtless  you  see  that  it  is  quite  wrong  to  say  that 
such  an  old  age  was  miserable.  Still,  all  men  can  not  be 
Scipios  or  Maximi,  so  as  to  remember  the  stormings  of  cities, 
battles  by  land  and  sea,  wars  conducted  and  triumphs  gained 
by  themselves.  The  old  age  also  of  a life  past  in  peace  and 
innocence  and  elegance  is  a gentle  and  mild  one,  such  as  we 
have  heard  that  of  Plato  to  have  been,  who,  in  his  eighty- 
first  year,  died  while  writing ; such  as  that  of  Isocrates,  who 
says  that  he  wrote  that  book  which  is  entitled  the  Panathe- 
naican  in  his  ninety-fourth  year,  and  he  lived  five  years 
after : whose  master,  Gorgias,  the  Leontine,  completed  one 
hundred  and  seven  years,  nor  did  he  ever  loiter  in  his  pur- 
suit and  labor ; who,  when  it  was  asked  of  him  why  he 
liked  to  be  so  long  in  life,  said:  “I  have  no  cause  for 
blaming  old  age.”  An  admirable  answer,  and  worthy  of  a 
man  of  learning:  for  the  foolish  lay  their  own  vices  and 

the  left  side  of  the  Trojan  army.  Hector  treats  both  the  advice  and  the 
adviser  with  much  contempt ; and  among  other  sentiments  equally  just 
and  animated,  nobly  replies  (as  the  lines  are  finely  translated  by  Mr. 
Pope) : — 

* Ye  vagrants  of  the  sky  I your  wings  extend, 

Or  where  the  sun  arise,  or  where  descend ; 

To  right,  to  left,  unheeded  take  your  way’ — 

‘ Without  a sign  his  sword  the  bravo  man  draws. 

And  asks  no  omen  but  his  country’s  cause.’  ” 

Pope’s  Homer,  II.  xii.  279. 


CHAP.  YI. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


223 


their  own  faults  to  the  charge  of  old  age,  which  that  Ennius^ 
of  whom  I lately  made  mention,  was  not  disposed  to  do : ‘‘  As 
the  gallant  steed,  who  often  at  the  close  of  the  race  won  the 
Olympic  prizes,  now  worn  out  with  old  age,  takes  his  rest.” 
He  compares  his  own  old  age  to  that  of  a mettled  and  victo- 
rious steed,  and  that  indeed  you  can  very  well  remember ; 
for  it  was  in  the  nineteenth  year  after  his  death  that  the 
present  consuls,  Titus  Flaminius^  and  Marcus  Acilius,  were 
elected,  and  he  died  in  the  second  consulship  of  Coepio  and 
Philip;  when  I too,  at  the  age  of  sixty-five,  had  supported 
the  Voconian  law*^  with  a powerful  voice  and  unimpaired 
lungs.  At  the  age  of  seventy,  for  so  many  years  Ennius 
lived,  he  in  such  a manner  endured  two  burdens,  which  are 
deemed  the  greatest,  poverty  and  old  age,  that  he  almost 
seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  them.  For  when  I consider  it  in 
my  mind,  I find  four  causes  wdiy  old  age  is  thought  miserable : 
one,  that  it  calls  us  away  from  the  transaction  of  affairs ; the 
second,  that  it  renders  the  body  more  feeble ; the  third,  that 
it  deprives  us  of  almost  all  pleasures ; the  fourth,  that  it  is 
not  very  far  from  death.  Of  these  causes  let  us  see,  if  you 
please,  how  great  and  how  reasonable  each  of  them  is. 

VI.  Does  old  age  draw  us  away  from  active  duties  ? 
From  which  ? from  those  which  are  performed  by  youth 
and  strength  ? Are  there,  then,  no  concerns  of  old  age, 
which  even  when  our  bodies  are  feeble,  are  yet  carried 
on  by  the  mind  ? Was  Q.  Maximus,  then,  unemployed  ? 
Was  L.  Paulus,  your  father,  Scipio,  unemployed,  the  father- 
in-law  of  that  most  excellent  man,  my  son  ? Those  other  old 
men,  the  Fabricii,  the  Curii,  the  Coruncanii,  when  they  sup- 
ported the  commonwealth  by  wisdom  and  authority,  were 
they  unemployed  ? It  was  an  aggravation  of  the  old  age  of 
Appius  Claudius  that  he  was  blind,  and  yet  he,  when  the 
opinion  of  the  senate  was  inclined  to  peace,  and  the  con- 
clusion of  a treaty  with  Pyrrus,  did  not  hesitate  to  utter 
these  words,  which  Ennius  has  expressed  in  verse : — 
“ Whither  have  your  minds,  which  used  to  stand  upright 
before,  in  folly  turned  away  ?”  And  all  the  rest  with  the 
utmost  dignity,  for  the  poem  is  well  known  to  you,  and  yet 


' A.U.C.  604. 

2 The  Yoconian  law  enacted  that  no  one  should  make  a woman  his  heir. 


224 


CICERO  OIsT  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  TI. 


the  speecli  of  Appius  himself  still  exists : and  he  delivered 
this  speech  seventeen  years  after  his  second  consulship, 
when  ten  years  had  intervened  between  the  two  consulships, 
and  he  had  been  censor  before  his  former  consulship ; from 
which  it  is  concluded  that  in  the  war  with  Pyrrhus,  he 
was  a very  old  man,  and  yet  we  have  been  thus  informed 
by  our  fathers.  Therefore  they  advance  no  argument  who 
say  that  old  age  is  not  engaged  in  active  duty,  and  resemble 
those  who  should  say  that  the  pilot  in  navigation  is  unem- 
|3loyed,  for  that  while  some  climb  the  mast,  others  run  up 
and  down  the  decks,  others  empty  the  bilge-water,  he, 
holding  the  helm,  sits  at  the  stern  at  his  ease.  He  does  not 
do  those  things  that  the  young  men  do,  but  in  truth  he  does 
much  greater  and  better  things.  Great  actions  are  not 
achieved  by  exertions  of  strength,  or  speed,  or  by  quick 
movement  of  bodies,  but  by  talent,  authority,  judgment ; ot! 
v^hich  faculties  old  age  is  usually  so  far  from  being  deprived, 
that  it  is  even  improved  in  them : unless,  indeed,  I,  who 
both  as  a soldier  and  tribune,  and  lieutenant-general,  and 
consul,  have  been  employed  in  various  kinds  of  wars,  now 
seem  to  you  to  be  idle  when  I am  not  engaged  in  wars. 
But  I counsel  the  senate  as  to  what  wars  are  to  be  engaged 
in,  and  in  what  manner;  against  Carthage,^  which  has  now 
for  a long  time  been  meditating  mischief,  I have  long  been 
denouncing  war ; about  which  I shall  not  cease  to  fear  until 
I shall  know  that  it  has  been  razed  to  the  ground ; which 
victory  I wish  the  immortal  gods  may  reserve  for  you, 
Scipio,  that  you  may  consummate  the  unfinished  exploits  of 
your  grandfather;  since  whose  death  this  is  the  thirty-third 
year : but  all  succeeding  years  will  cherish  the  memory  of 
that  man.  He  died  in  the  year  before  I was  censor,  nine 
years  after  my  consulship,  when  he  had  been  in  my  consul- 
ship created  consul  a second  time.  Would  he,  therefore,  if 
he  had  lived  to  one  hundred  years  old,  ever  have  regretted 
his  old  age  ? for  he  would  not  exercise  himself,  either  in 
running  a race,  or  in  leaping,  or  at  a distance  with  spears, 
or  in  close  quarters  with  swords,  but  in  counsel,  reflection, 
and  judgment.  Now,  unless  those  faculties  existed  in  old 


^ “ Delenda  est  Carthago”  was  so  common  an  expression  of  Cato’s  as 
to  have  become  proverbial. 


CHAP.  VI. 


CICERO  Oisr  OLD  AGE. 


225 


men,  our  ancestors  would  never  have  called  the  supreme 
council  hj  the  name  of  senate.^  Among  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians, those  who  hold  the  highest  office,  as  they  are,  so  also 
are  they  styled,  elders.  But  if  you  shall  he  inclined  to  read 
or  hear  of  foreign  matters,  you  will  find  the  greatest  com- 
monwealths have  been  overthrown  by  young  men,  and 
supported  and  restored  by  the  old.  “ Pray,  how  lost  you  your 
commonwealth,  so  great  as  it  was,  in  so  short  a time  ?”  For 
such  is  the  appeal  as  it  is  in  the  play  of  the  poet  Nsevius 
both  other  answers  are  given,  and  these  especially : There 

came  forward  orators  inexperienced,  foolish  young  men.” 
Rashness,  beyond  a doubt,  belongs  to  life  when  in  its  bloom ; 
wisdom  to  it  in  old  age. 

VII.  But  the  memory  is  impaired.  I believe  it,  unless 
you  keep  it  in  practice,  or  if  you  are  by  nature  rather  dull. 
Themistocles  had  learned  by  heart  the  names  of  all  his 
fellow-citizens.  Do  you  suppose,  therefore,  when  he  ad- 
vanced in  age,  he  was  accustomed  to  address  him  as  Lysi- 
machus  who  was  Aristides  ? For  my  part,  I know  not  only 
those  persons  who  are  alive,  but  their  fathers  also,  and 
grandfathers;  nor  in  reading  tombstones  am  I afraid,  as 
they  say,  lest  I should  lose  my  memory;  for  by  reading 
these  very  tombstones,  I regain  my  recollection  of  the  dead.^ 

^ So  called  from  the  Latin  word  senex.  The  members  of  this  august 
assembly  were  originally  distinguished  by  the  title  of  fathers.  “Yel 
setate,”  says  Sallust,  “vel  curse  similitudine.”  Ovid  has  some  pretty 
lines  in  allusion  to  the  same  etymology  : 

“ Magna  fuit  capitis  quondam  reverentia  cani, 

Inque  suo  pretio  rugo  senilis  erat, 

Nec  nisi  post  annos  patuit  tunc  curia  seros 
FTomen  et  setatis  mite  senatus  habet, 

J ura  dabat  Populo  senior  finitaque  certis, 

Legibus  est  setas  inde  petatur  honor.” 

“ Time  was  when  reverend  years  observance  found, 

And  silver  hairs  with  honor’s  meed  was  crowned. 

In  those  good  days  the  venerably  old 
In  Rome’s  sage  synod  stood  alone  enrolled. 

Experienced  old  she  gave  her  laws  to  frame, 

And  from  the  seniors  rose  the  senate^ s name.” — Melmoth. 

2 Cneius  Nsevius  was  a Latin  poet,  who  lived  during  the  first  Punic 
war,  which  he  made  the  subject  of  an  epic  poem.  He  also  wrote  com- 
edies, now  lost.  He  died  about  b.c.  203. 

® “It  was  a prevailing  superstition,”  says  Melmoth,  in  his  annotation 
upon  this  passage,  “ among  the  Romans,  that  to  read  the  inscriptions  on 

10^ 


226 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  vir. 


Nor  indeed  have  I heard  of  any  old  man  having  forgotten  in 
what  place  he  had  buried  a treasure  ; they  remember  all 
things  which  they  care  about : appointments  of  bail ; ^ who 
are  indebted  to  them,  and  to  whom  they  are  indebted.^  What 
do  lawyers  ? what  do  pontiffs  ? w^hat  do  augurs  ? what  do  phi- 
losophers, when  old  men  ? how  many  things  they  remember ! 
The  intellectual  powers  remain  in  the  old,  provided  study 
and  application  be  kept  up ; and  that  not  only  in  men  illus- 
trious and  of  high  rank,  but  also  in  private  and  peaceful  life. 
Sophocles  wrote  tragedies  up  to  the  period  of  extreme  old  age ; 
and  when  on  account  of  that  pursuit  he  seems  to  be  neglect- 
ing the  family  property,  he  was  summoned  by  his  sons  into 
a court  of  justice,  that,  as  according  to  our  practice,  fathers 
mismanaging  their  property  are  wont  to  be  interdicted  their 
possessions,^  so  in  his  case  the  judges  might  remove  him 

the  monuments  of  the  dead,  weakened  the  memory.  Of  this  very  singular 
and  unaccountable  notion,  no  other  trace  I believe  is  to  be  found  among 
the  Roman  authors  but  what  appears  in  the  present  passage.  Possibly 
it  might  take  its  rise  from  the  popular  notion  that  the  spirits  of  malevolent 
and  wicked  men,  after  their  decease,  delighted  to  haunt  the  places  where 
their  bodies  or  ashes  were  deposited,  and  there  were  certain  annual  rites 
celebrated  at  these  sepulchers  for  appeasing  the  ghosts.” — ^Yid.  Platon. 
Phaed.  No.  3.  Ovid,  Fast.  II.  533. 

1 Vadimonia,  '^vades^'^  or  ^^vadimonium  dare^''  to  give  bail  or  recog- 
nizances; ^^deserere  vadimonium,^^  to  forfeit  his  recognizances. 

2 “We  generally  find  that  this  inaptitude  at  recollection  is  most  ap- 
parent with  reference  to  subjects  which  are  uninteresting  or  distasteful 
to  the  individual ; and  this  for  an  obvious  reason.  To  such  subjects  the 
mind  gives  little  or  no  attention,  and  consequently  few  or  no  associations 
are  connected  with  the  facts  observed.  Hence  these  facts  never  become 
the  property  of  the  mind^  and  of  course  can  never  be  recalled.  On  the 
other  hand,  on  what  subjects  do  we  find  that  the  faculty  of  recollection 
is  the  most  susceptible  ? Unquestionably  on  those,  on  which  the  indi- 
vidual is  most  deeply  interested,  either  from  taste,  habit,  or  professional 
pursuit.  Its  apparent  defects  are  clearly  traceable  to  voluntary  habits 
of  inactivity  and  neglect ; while  like  every  other  faculty  of  the  intellect- 
ual nature,  it  is  capable  of  receiving  from  practice  an  indefinite  measure 
of  susceptibility  and  power.  In  short,  in  the  degree  of  perfection  at 
which  it  may  arrive,  it  is  one  of  the  most  commanding  and  dignified 
faculties  of  an  intelligent  being.  It  extends  the  very  limit  of  our  exist- 
ence back  from  the  present  to  the  past ; so  that  the  stream  of  by-gone 
years,  with  all  the  rich  freight  of  knowledge  and  experience  which  it 
bears  upon  its  bosom,  does  not  merge  and  lose  itself  in  an  unknown 
ocean,  but  only  winds  itself  out  of  sight  in  the  recesses  of  our  own  do- 
mains.”— Edmonds’s  Philosophy  of  Memory. 

3 Inter  did  bonis.  The  praetor  was  said  “ interdiceref  when  he  took 
from  any  one  the  management  of  his  property,  as  in  cases  of  lunacy,  etc. 


CHAP.  VIII. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


227 


from  the  management  of  the  state  as  being  imbecile.  Then 
the  old  man  is  related  to  have  read  aloud  to  the  judges  that 
.play  which  he  held  in  his  hands  and  had  most  recently 
written,  the  (Edipus  Coloneus,  and  to  have  asked  whether 
that  appeared  the  poem  of  a dotard ; on  the  recital  of  which, 
he  was  acquitted  by  the  sentences  of  the  judges.  Did,  then, 
old  age  compel  this  man,  or  Homer,  or  Hesiod,'  or  Simoni- 
des,® or  Stesichorus,®  or  those  men  whom  I mentioned 
before  Isocrates,  Georgias,  or  the  chiefs  of  the  philosophers, 
Pythagoras,  Democritus,  or  Plato,  or  Xenocrates,  or  after- 
ward Zeno,  Cleanthes,  or  him  whom  you  have  also  seen  at 
Rome,  Diogenes  the  Stoic,  to  falter  in  their  pursuits  ? Was  not 
the  vigorous  pursuit  of  their  studies  commensurate  with 
their  life  in  all  these  men  ? Come,  to  pass  over  these  sublime 
pursuits,  I can  mention  in  the  Sabine  district,  country  gen- 
tlemen at  Rome,  neighbors  and  acquintances  of  mine,  in 
whose  absence  scarcely  ever  are  any  important  works  done 
in  the  farm,  either  in  sowing,  or  in  reaping,  or  in  storing  the 
produce ; and  yet  in  those  men  this  is  less  to  be  wondered 
at ; for  no  man  is  so  old  as  not  to  think  he  may  live  a 
year.  But  they  also  take  pains  in  those  matters,  which  they 
know  do  not  at  all  concern  themselves.  He  plants  trees  to 
benefit  another  generation,”  as  our  friend  Statius''  says  in 
his  Synephebi.  Xor,  in  truth,  let  the  husbandman,  however 
old,  hesitate  to  reply  to  any  one  who  asks  him  “ for  whom  he 
is  sowing:”  “For  the  immortal  gods,  who  intended  that  I 
should  not  only  receive  these  possessions  from  my  ancestors, 
but  also  transmit  them  to  my  descendants.” 

VIII.  Csecilius  speaks  more  wisely  about  an  old  man  look- 
ing forward  to  another  generation,  than  the  following: — 
“ In  truth,^  old  age,  if  thou  bringest  with  thee  no  other 

* Hesiod,  a poet  of  Ascra  in  Boeotia,  supposed  by  some  to  have  lived 
about  the  time  of  Homer.  His  principal  poem  is  the  “ Works  and 
Days,’*  a sort  of  shepherd’s  calendar. 

2 Simonides,  a poet  of  Cos,  who  flourished  B.c,  538. 

3 Stesichorus,  a lyric  Greek  poet  of  Himera,  in  Sicily,  B.c.  556, 

4 Statius,  a comic  poet  in  the  days  of  Ennius.  He  was  a native  of 
Gaul.  His  surname  was  Caecilius. — ^Yid.  Chap.  viii.  at  the  beginning. 

3 ^depol.  Per  cedem  Pollucis,  by  the  temple  of  Pollux : a form  of 
swearing  common  both  to  men  and  women.  Mecastor,  or  Ecastor,  “ by 
Castor,”  was  used  by  women  only:  Hercle,  or  Mehercle,  was  the  form 
used  by  men. 


228 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  IX. 


fault  when  thou  arrivest,  this  one  is  enough,  that  by  living 
long,  one  sees  many  things  which  he  does  not  like  — and 
many  things,  perhaps,  which  he  does  like ; and  youth  also 
often  meets  with  things  which  he  does  not  like.  But  the 
same  Csecilus  makes  the  following  assertion,  which  is  still 
more  objectionable : — “ Then,  for  my  part,  I reckon  this 
circumstance  connected  with  old  age  the  most  wretched, 
to  be  censcious  at  that  age  that  one  is  disagreeable  to 
others.”  Pleasant  rather  than  disagreeable.  For  as  wise 
old  men  take  pleasure  in  young  men  possessed  of  good 
disposition,  and  the  old  age  of  those  persons  becomes 
lighter  who  are  courted  and  loved  by  youth ; so  young  men 
take  pleasure  in  the  lessons  of  the  old,  by  which  they  are  led 
on  to  the  pursuits  of  virtue.  Nor  am  I aware  that  I am  less 
agreeable  to  you  than  you  are  to  me.  But  you  see  that  old 
age  is  so  far  from  being  feeble  and  inactive,  that  it  is  even 
industrious,  and  always  doing  and  devising  something ; 
namely,  such  pursuits  as  have  belonged  to  each  man  in 
former  life.  Nay,  they  even  learn  something  new ; as  we  see 
Solon  in  his  verses  boasting,  who  says  that  he  was  becoming 
an  old  man,  daily  learning  something  new,  as  I have  done, 
who,  when  an  old  man,  learned  the  Greek  language 
which  too  I so  greedily  grasped,  as  if  I were  desirous  of 
satisfying  a long  protracted  thirst,  that  those  very  things 
became  known  to  me  which  you  now  see  me  use  as  illus- 
trations. And  when  I heard  that  Socrates  had  done  this 
on  the  lyre,  for  my  part  I should  like  to  do  that  also, — for 
the  ancients  used  to  learn  the  lyre : but  with  their  literature, 
at  any  rate,  I have  taken  pains. 

IX.  Nor  even  now  do  I feel  the  want  of  the  strength  of  a 
young  man — for  that  was  the  second  topic  about  the  faults 
of  old  age — no  more  than  when  a young  man  I felt  the  want 
of  the  strength  of  the  bull  or  of  the  elephant.  What  one  has, 
that  one  ought  to  use ; and  whatever  you  do,  you  should  do 

^ Referrin^y  to  this  fact  in  the  life  of  Cato,  Lord  Bacon  says,  “ As  to  the 
judgment  of  Cato  the  censor,  he  was  well  punished  for  his  blasphemy 
against  learning,  in  the  same  kind  wherein  he  offended  ; for  when  he  was 
past  threescore  years  old,  he  was  taken  with  an  extreme  desire  to  go  to 
school  again  and  to  learn  the  Greek  tongue  to  the  end  to  peruse  the  Greek 
authors,  which  doth  well  demonstrate,  that  his  former  censure  of  the 
Grecian  learning  was  rather  an  affected  gravity  than  according  to  the  in- 
ward sense  of  his  own  opinion.” — “ Advancement  of  Learning,”  book  i. 


CHAP.  IX 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


229 


it  with  all  your  strength.  For  what  expression  can  be  more 
contemptible  than  that  of  Milo  ^ of  Crotona,  who,  when  he 
was  now  an  old  man,  and  was  looking  at  the  prize-fighters 
exercising  themselves  on  the  course,  is  reported  to  have 
looked  at  his  arms,  and,  weeping  over  them,  to  have  said, 
“But  these,  indeed,  are  now  dead.” ^ ^^^7?  foolish  man,  not 

these  arms  so  much  as  yourself ; for  you  never  derived  your 
nobility  from  yourself,  but  from  your  chest  and  you  arms. 
Nothing  of  the  kind  did  Sextus  -^lius  ever  say,  nothing  of 
the  kind  many  years  before  did  Titus  Coruncanius,  nothing 
lately  did  Publius  Crassus;  by  whom  instructions  in  juris- 
prudence were  given  to  their  fellow-citizens,  and  whose 
wisdom  was  progressive  even  to  their  latest  breath.  For 
the  orator,  I fear  lest  he  be  enfeebled  by  old  age  ; for  elo- 
quence is  a gift  not  of  mind  only,  but  also  of  lungs  and 
strength.  On  the  whole,  that  melodiousness  in  the  voice  is 
graceful,  I know  not  how,  even  in  old  age  ; which,  indeed,  I 
have  not  lost,  and  you  see  my  years.  Yet  there  is  a grace- 
ful style  of  eloquence  in  an  old  man,  unimpassioned  and 
subdued,  and  very  often  the  elegant  and  gentle  discourse  of 
an  eloquent  old  man  wins  for  itself  a hearing ; and  if  you 
have  not  yourself  the  power  to  produce  this  effect,  yet  you 

^ Milo,  A famous  Athlete,  of  Crotona,  in  Italy.  He  is  said  to  have 
carried  on  his  shoulders  a young  bullock.  He  was  seven  times  crowned 
at  the  Pythian  games,  and  six  times  at  the  Olympian. 

* “ When  an  old  man  bewails  the  loss  of  such  gratifications  as  are 
passed,  he  discovers  a monstrous  inclination  to  that  which  it  is  not  in  the 
course  of  Providence  to  recall.  The  state  of  an  old  man,  who  is  dissat- 
isfied merely  for  his  being  such,  is  the  most  out  of  all  measures  of  reason 
and  good  sense  of  any  being  we  have  any  account  of,  from  the  highest 
angel  to  the  lowest  worm.  How  miserable  is  the  contemplation,  to  con- 
sider a libidinous  old  man  fretting  at  the  course  of  things,  and  being  al- 
most the  sole  malcontent  in  the  creation.  Rut  let  us  a little  reflect  upon 
what  he  has  lost  by  the  number  of  years ; the  passions  which  he  had  in 
youth  are  not  to  be  obeyed  as  they  were  then,  but  reason  is  more  power- 
ful now  without  tho  disturbance  of  them.  One  would  think  it  should 
be  no  small  satisfaction  to  have  gone  so  far  in  our  journey  that  the  heat 
of  the  day  is  over  with  us.  When  life  itself  is  a fever,  as  it  is  in  licen- 
tious youth,  the  pleasures  of  it  are  no  other  than  the  dreams  of  a man 
in  that  distemper;  and  it  is  as  absurd  to  wish  the  return  of  that  season 
of  life,  as  for  a man  in  health  to  be  sorry  for  the  loss  of  gilded  palaces, 
fairy  walks,  and  flowery  pastures,  with  which  he  remembers  he  was  en- 
tertained in  the  troubled  slumbers  of  a fit  of  sickness.” — The  Spectator, 
No.  153. 


230 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  X. 


may  be  able  to  teach  it  to  Scipio  and  Laolius.  For  what 
is  more  delightful  than  old  age  surrounded  with  the  stud- 
ious attention  of  youth?  Shall  we  not  leave  even  such  a 
resource  to  old  age,  as  to  teach  young  men,  instruct  them, 
train  them  to  every  department  of  duty?  an  employment, 
indeed,  than  which  what  can  be  more  noble  ? But,  for 
my  part,  I thought  the  Cneius  and  Publius  Scipios,  and 
your  two  grandfathers,  L.  -^milius  and  P.  Africanus,  quite 
happy  in  the  attendance  of  noble  youths ; nor  are  any  pre- 
ceptors of  liberal  accomplishment  to  be  deemed  otherwise 
than  happy,  though  their  strength  hath  fallen  into  old  age 
and  failed ; although  that  very  failure  of  strength  is  more 
frequently  caused  by  the  follies  of  youth  than  by  those  of 
old  age;  for  a lustful  and  intemperate  youth  transmits  to 
old  age  an  exhausted  body.^  Cyrus  too,  in  Xenophon,  in 
that  discourse  which  he  delivered  on  his  death-bed  Avhen  he 
was  a very  old  man,  said  that  he  never  felt  that  his  old 
age  had  become  feebler  than  his  youth  had  been.  I recol- 
lect when  a boy,  that  Lucius  Metellus,  who,  when  four 
years  after  his  second  consulship  he  had  been  made  “ pon- 
tifex  maximus,”  and  for  twenty-two  years  held  that  sacer- 
dotal office,  enjoyed  such  good  strength  at  the  latter  period 
of  his  life,  that  he  felt  no  want  of  youth.  There  is  no  need 
for  me  to  speak  about  myself,  and  yet  that  is  the  privilege 
of  old  age,  and  conceded  to  my  time  of  life. 

X.  Do  you  see  how,  in  Homer,  Xestor  very  often  pro- 
claims his  own  virtues  ? for  he  was  now  living  in  the  tliird 
generation  of  men;  nor  had  he  occasion  to  fear  lest,  when 
stating  the  truth  about  himself,  he  should  appear  either  too 
arrogant  or  too  talkative ; for,  as  Homer  says,^  from  his 
tongue  speech  flowed  sweeter  than  honey ; for  which  charm 
he  stood  in  need  of  no  strength  of  body : and  yet  the  famous 
chief  of  Greece  nowhere  wishes  to  have  ten  men  like  Ajax, 
but  like  Xestor ; ^ and  he  does  not  doubt  if  that  should 

* “ When  young  men  in  public  places  betray  in  their  deportment  an 
abandoned  resignation  to  their  appetites,  they  give  to  sober  minds  a pros- 
pect of  a despicable  age,  which,  if  not  interrupted  by  death  in  the  midst 
of  their  follies,  must  certainly  come.” — The  Spectator,  No.  153. 

^ ToO  Kal  (iTzb  yTi^aarjg  fiekiroq  yAVKiuv  ptev  avd?). 

^ Oh  I would  the  gods,  in  love  to  Greece,  decree 

But  ten  such  sages  as  they  grant  in  thee  1 


CHAP.  X 


CICERO  OIT  OLD  AGE. 


231 


happen,  Troy  would  in  a short  time  perish.  But  I return  to 
myself.  I am  in  my  eighty-fourth  year.  In  truth  I should 
like  to  be  able  to  make  the  same  boast  that  Cyrus  did : but 
one  thing  I can  say,  that  although  I have  not,  to  be  sure,  that 
strength  which  I had  either  as  a soldier  in  the  Punic  war,  or 
as  quaestor  in  the  same  war,  or  as  consul  in  Spain,  or,  four 
years  afterward,  when  as  military  tribune  I fought  a battle  at 
Thermopylae,  in  the  consulship  of  Marcus  Acilius  Glabrio : 
yet,  as  you  see,  old  age  has  not  quite  enfeebled  me  nor  broken 
me  down : the  senate-house  does  not  miss  my  strength,  nor 
the  rostra,^  nor  my  friends,  nor  my  clients,  nor  my  guests ; 
for  I have  never  agreed  to  that  old  and  much-praised 
proverb,  which  advises  you  to  become  an  old  man  early,  if 
you  wish  to  be  an  old  man  long.  I for  my  part  would  rather 
be  an  old  man  for  a shorter  length  of  time  than  be  an  old 
man  before  I was  one.  And,  therefore,  no  one  as  yet  has 
wished  to  have  an  interview  with  me,  to  whom  I have  been 
denied  as  engaged.  But  I have  less  strength  than  either  of 
you  two.  Neither  even  do  you  possess  the  strength  of  Titus 
Pontius  the  centurion : is  he,  therefore,  the  more  excellent 
man  ? Only  let  there  be  a moderate  degree  of  strength,  and 
let  every  man  exert  himself  as  much  as  he  can  ; and  in  truth 
that  man  will  not  be  absorbed  in  regretting  the  want  of 
strength.  Milo,  at  Olympia,  is  said  to  have  gone  over  the  course 
while  supporting  on  his  shoulders  a live  ox.  Whether,  then, 
would  you  rather  have  this  strength  of  body,  or  Pythagoras’s 
strength  of  intellect,  bestowed  upon  you  ? In  a word,  enjoy 
that  blessing  while  you  have  it : when  it  is  gone,  do  not 
lament  it ; unless,  indeed,  young  men  ought  to  lament  the 
loss  of  boyhood,  and  those  a little  advanced  in  age  the  loss 
of  adolescence.  There  is  a definite  career  in  life,  and  one 
way  of  nature,  and  that  a simple  one  ; and  to  every  part  of 
life  its  own  peculiar  period  has  been  assigned : so  that  both 
the  feebleness  of  boys,  and  the  high  spirit  of  young  men,  and 
the  steadiness  of  our  fixed  manhood,  and  the  maturity  of  old 
age,  have  something  natural,  which  ought  to  be  enjoyed  in 

Such  wisdom  soon  should  Priam’s  force  destroy ; 

And  soon  should  fall  the  haughty  towers  of  Troy. 

lUiad,  Pope’s  Translation. 

1 Rostra : a pulpit  from  which  the  orators  used  to  harangue  the  people 
at  the  comitia  or  public  assemblies.  It  was  so  called,  because  it  was 
adorned  with  the  beaks  of  the  ships  taken  from  the  Antiates. 


232 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XI. 


their  own  time.  I suppose  that  you  hear,  Scipio,  what  your 
grandfather’s  host,  Masinissa,^  is  doing  at  this  day,  at  the  age 
of  ninety:  when  he  has  commenced  journey  on  foot,  ho 
never  mounts  at  all ; when  on  horseback,  he  never  dismounts  : 
by  no  rain,  by  no  cold,  is  he  prevailed  upon  to  have  his 
head  covered ; that  there  is  in  him  the  greatest  hardiness 
of  frame ; and  therefore  he  performs  all  the  duties  and 
functions  of  a king.  Exercise,  therefore,  and  temperance, 
even  in  old  age,  can  preserve  some  remnant  of  our  pristine 
vigor. 

XL  Is  there  no  strength  in  old  age?  neither  is  strength 
exacted  from  old  age.  Therefore,  by  our  laws  and  insti- 
tutions, our  time  of  life  is  relieved  from  those  tasks  which 
can  not  be  supported  without  strength.  Accordingly,  so  far 
are  we  from  being  compelled  to  do  what  we  can  not  do,  that 
we  are  not  even  compelled  to  do  as  much  as  w^e  can.  But  so 
feeble  are  many  old  men,  that  they  can  not  execute  any  task  of 
duty,  or  any  function  of  life  whatever ; but  that  in  truth  is 
not  the  peculiar  fault  of  old  age,  but,  belongs  in  common  to 
bad  health.  How  feeble  was  the  son  of  Publius  Africanus, 
he  who  adopted  you?  What  feeble  health,  or  rather  no 
health  at  all,  had  he ! and  had  that  not  been  so,  he  would 
have  been  the  second  luminary  of  the  state  ; for  to  his  pater- 
nal greatness  of  soul  a richer  store  of  learning  had  been 
added.*  W^hat  wonder,  therefore,  in  old  men,  if  they  are 

1 Masinissa,  son  of  Gala,  king  of  a small  part  of  Northern  Africa : he 
assisted  the  Carthaginians  in  their  wars  against  Rome.  He  afterward 
became  a firm  ally  of  the  Romans.  He  died  after  a reign  of  sixty  years, 
about  B.c.  149. 

2 “ There  are  perhaps,”  says  Dr.  Johnson,  “ very  few  conditions  more 
to  be  pitied  than  that  of  an  active  and  elevated  mind  laboring  under  the 
weight  of  a distempered  body.  The  time  of  such  a man  is  always  spent 
in  forming  schemes  which  a change  of  wind  hinders  him  from  executing, 
his  powers  fume  away  in  projects  and  in  hope,  and  the  day  of  action 
never  arrives.  He  lies  down  delighted  with  the  thoughts  of  to-morrow, 
pleases  his  ambition  with  the  fame  ho  shall  acquire,  or  his  benevolence 
with  the  good  he  shall  confer.  But  in  the  night  the  skies  are  overcast, 
the  temper  of  the  air  is  changed,  he  wakes  in  languor,  impatience,  and 
distraction,  and  has  no  longer  any  wish  but  for  ease,  nor  any  attention 
but  to  misery.  It  may  be  said  that  disease  generally  begins  that  equalit}> 
which  death  completes ; the  distinctions  which  set  one  man  so  much 
above  another  are  very  little  perceived  in  the  gloom  of  a sick  chamber, 
where  it  will  be  vain  to  expect  entertainment  from  the  gay,  or  instruc- 
tion from  the  wise ; where  all  human  glory  is  obliterated,  the  wit  is 


CHAP.  XI. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


233 


sometimes  weak,  when  even  young  men  can  not  escape  that. 
We  must  make  a stand,  Scipio,  and  Laelius,  against  old  age, 
and  its  faults  must  be  atoned  for  by  activity ; we  must 
fight,  as  it  were,  against  disease,  and  in  like  manner  against 
old  age.  Regard  must  be  paid  to  health ; moderate  exer- 
cises must  be  adopted ; so  much  of  meat  and  drink  must  be 
taken  that  the  strength  may  be  recruited,  not  oppressed, 
Nor,  indeed,  must  the  body  alone  be  supported,  but  the 
mind  and  the  soul  much  more ; for  these  also,  unless  you 
drop  oil  on  them  as  on  a lamp,  are  extinguished  by  old  age. 
And  our  bodies,  indeed,  by  weariness  and  exercise,  become 
oppressed ; but  our  minds  are  rendered  buoyant  by  exercise. 
For  as  to  those,  of  whom  Csecilius  speaks,  foolish  old  men,” 
fit  characters  for  comedy,  by  these  he  denotes  the  credulous, 
the  forgetful,  the  dissolute ; which  are  the  faults  not  of  old 
age,  but  of  inactive,  indolent,  drowsy  old  age.  As  petu- 
lance and  lust  belong  to  the  young  more  than  to  the  old,  yet 
not  to  all  young  men,  but  to  those  who  are  not  virtuous ; so 
that  senile  folly  which  is  commonly  called  dotage,  belongs 
to  weak  old  men,  and  not  to  all.  Four  stout  sons,  five 
daughters,  so  great  a family,  and  such  numerous  dependents, 
did  Appius  manage,  although  both  old  and  blind ; for  he 
kept  his  mind  intent  like  a bow,  nor  did  he  languidly  sink 
under  the  weight  of  old  age.  He  retained  not  only  author- 
ity, but  also  command,  over  his  family : the  slaves  feared 
him  ; the  children  respected  him ; all  held  him  dear : there 
prevailed  in  that  house  the  manners  and  good  discipline  of 
our  fathers.  For  on  this  condition  is  old  age  honored  if  it 
maintains  itself,  if  it  keeps  up  its  own  right,  if  it  is  subserv- 
ient to  no  one,  if  even  to  its  last  breath  it  exercises  control 
over  its  dependents.  For,  as  I like  a young  man  in  whom 
there  is  something  of  the  old,  so  I like  an  old  man  in  whom 
there  is  something  of  the  young;  and  he  who  follows  this 
maxim,  in  body  will  possibly  be  an  old  man,  but  he  will 
never  be  an  old  man  in  mind.  I have  in  hand  my  seventh 
book  of  Antiquities ; I am  collecting  all  the  materials  of  our 
early  history ; of  all  the  famous  causes  which  I have  de- 

cJouded,  the  reasoner  perplexed,  and  the  hero  subdued;  where  the 
highest  and  brightest  of  mortal  beings  finds  nothing  left  him  but  the 
consciousness  of  innocence.” — Dr.  Johnson’s  Rambler,  No.  48. 


234 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XI. 


fended,  I am  now  completing  tlie  pleadings  ; ^ I am  employed 
on  the  law  of  augurs,  of  pontiffs,  of  citizens.  I am  much  en- 
gaged also  in  Greek  literature,  and,  after  the  manner  of  the 
Pythagoreans,  for  the  purpose  of  exercising  my  memory, 
I call  to  mind  in  the  evening  what  I have  said,  heard, 
and  done  on  each  day.^  These  are  the  exercises  of  the 
understanding ; these  are  the  race-courses  of  the  mind ; 
while  I am  perspiring  and  toiling  over  these,  I do  not  greatly 
miss  my  strength  of  body.  I attend  my  friends,  I come  into 
the  senate  very  often,  and  spontaneously  bring  forward  things 
much  and  long  thought  of,  and  I maintain  them  by  strength 
of  mind,  not  of  body ; and  if  I were  unable  to  perform  these 
duties,  yet  my  couch  would  afford  no  amusement,  when  re- 
flecting on  those  matters  which  I was  no  longer  able  to  do — 
but  that  I am  able,  is  owing  to  my  past  life  : for,  by  a person 

* The  speeches  here  referred  to,  which  Cato  collected  and  published, 
amounted  to  about  150,  in  which,  as  we  are  assured  by  one  of  the 
greatest  masters  of  eloquence  that  Rome  ever  produced,  Cato  displayed 
all  the  powers  of  a consummate  orator.  Accordingly  he  was  styled  by 
his  cotemporaries  “The  Roman  Demosthenes,”  and  he  is  frequently 
mentioned  by  subsequent  writers  under  the  designation  of  “ Cato  the 
Orator.” 

^ “It  was  not,”  says  Melmoth,  and  that  with  great  propriety,  “ in  order 
to  exercise  and  improve  the  memory,  that  Pythagoras  enjoined  his  dis- 
ciples the  practice  of  this  nightly  recollection ; it  was  for  a much  more 
useful  and  important  purpose.  The  object  of  the  philosopher’s  precept 
is  indeed  wholly  of  a moral  nature,  as  appears  from  that  noble  summary 
of  his  Ethics,  supposed  to  be  drawn  up  by  one  of  his  disciples,  and 
known  by  the  name  of  the  ‘Golden  Verses  of  Pythagoras;’ 

“ vnvov  fialaKota  ett*  ofifiamj  etc. 

‘ Nightly  forbear  to  close  thine  eyes  to  rest 
Ere  thou  hast  questioned  well  thy  conscious  breast 
"What  sacred  duty  thou  hast  left  undone — 

What  act  committed  which  thou  oughtest  to  shun. 

And  as  fair  truth  or  error  marks  the  deed. 

Let  sweet  applause,  or  sharp  reproach  succeed  ; 

So  shall  thy  steps,  while  this  great  rule  is  thine, 

Undevious  lead  in  Virtue’s  path  divine.’ 

“ It  is  not  a little  surprising  that  Cicero  should  have  considered  this 
great  precept  merely  in  its  mechanical  operation  upon  one  of  the  faculties 
of  the  human  mind,  and  have  passed  over  unnoticed  its  most  important 
intent  and  efficacy ; especially  as  he  had  so  fair  an  occasion  of  pointing 
out  its  nobler  purpose.  Perhaps  there  never  was  a rule  of  conduct  de- 
livered by  any  uninspired  moralist  which  hath  so  powerful  a tendency  to 
promote  the  interests  of  virtue  as  the  present  precept.” 


CHAP.  XII. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


235 


who  always  lives  in  these  pursuits  and  labors,  it  is  not  per- 
ceived when  old  age  steals  on.  Thus  gradually  and  uncon- 
sciously life  declines  into  old  age ; nor  is  its  thread  suddenly 
broken,  but  the  vital  principle  is  consumed  by  length  of 
time. 

XII.  Then  follows  the  third  topic  of  blame  against  old 
age,  that  they  say  it  has  no  pleasures.  Oh,  noble  privi- 
lege of  age ! if  indeed  it  takes  from  us  that  which  is  in 
youth  the  greatest  defect.  For  listen,  most  excellent  young 
men,  to  the  ancient  speech  of  Archytas  of  Tarentum,  a man 
eminently  great  and  illustrious,  which  was  reported  to  me 
when  I,  a young  man,  was  at  Tarentum  with  Quintus  Maxi- 
mus. He  said  that  no  more  deadly  plague  than  the  pleasure 
of  the  body  was  inflicted  on  men  by  nature ; for  the  pas- 
sions, greedy  of  that  pleasure,  were  in  a rash  and  unbridled 
manner  incited  to  possess  it ; that  hence  arose  treasons  against 
one’s  country,  hence  the  ruining  of  states,  hence  clan- 

destine conferences*-  with  enemies  : in  short,  that  there 
was  no  crime,  no  wicked  act,  to  the  undertaking  of  which 
the  lust  of  pleasure  did  not  impel ; but  that  fornications 
and  adulteries  and  every  such  crime  were  provoked  by 

no  other  allurements  than  those  of  pleasure.  And  whereas 
either  nature  or  some  god  had  given  to  man  nothing 
more  excellent  than  his  mind ; that  to  this  divine  func- 
tion and  gift,  nothing  was  so  hostile  as  pleasure : since 

where  lust  bore  sway,  there  was  no  room  for  self-restraint ; 
and  in  the  realm  of  pleasure,  virtue  could  by  no  possi- 
bility exist.  And  that  this  might  be  the  better  understood, 
he  begged  you  to  imagine  in  your  mind  any  one  actuated 
by  the  greatest  pleasure  of  the  body  that  could  be  enjoyed ; 
he  believed  no  one  would  doubt,  but  that  so  long  as  the  person 
was  in  that  state  of  delight,  he  would  be  able  to  consider 
nothing  in  his  mind,  to  attain  nothing  by  reason,  nothing  by 
reflection : wherefore  that  there  was  nothing  so  detestable 
and  so  destructive  as  pleasure,  inasmuch  as  that  when  it  was 
excessive  and  very  prolonged,  it  extinguished  all  the  light  of 
the  soul.  Xearchus  of  Tarentum,  our  host,*  who  had  re- 

^ The  title  of  ^hoc,  or  public  host  of  a nation  or  city,  is  exceedingly 
common  in  the  classic  writers.  The  duty  of  the  person  on  whom  it  was 
conferred,  was  to  receive  embassadors  from  the  state  with  which  he  was 
thus  connected,  into  his  own  house,  if  they  had  been  sent  on  public 


236 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AOE. 


CHAP.  xni. 


mained  throughout  in  friendship  with  the  Roman  people,  said 
he  had  heard  from  older  men,  that  Archytas  held  this  con- 
versation with  Caius  Pontius  the  Samnite,  the  father  of  him 
by  whom,  in  the  Caudian  battle,'  Spurius  Postumius  and 
Titus  Veturius^  the  consuls,  were  overcome,  on  which  occa- 
sion Plato  the  Athenian  had  been  present  at  that  discourse ; 
and  I find  that  he  came  to  Tarentum  in  the  consulship  of 
Lucius  Camillus  and  Appius  Claudius.^  Wherefore  do  I 
adduce  this  ? that  we  may  understand  that  if  we  could  not 
by  reason  and  wisdom  despise  pleasure,  great  gratitude 
would  be  due  to  old  age  for  bringing  it  to  pass  that  that 
should  not  be  a matter  of  pleasure  which  is  not  a matter  of 
duty.  For ‘pleasure  is  hostile  to  reason,  hinders  deliberation, 
and,  so  to  speak,  closes  the  eyes  of  the  mind,  nor  does  it  hold 
any  intercourse  with  virtue.  I indeed  acted  reluctantly  in  ex- 
pelling from  the  senate  Lucius  Flaminius,  brother  of  that  very 
brave  man,  Titus  Flaminius,  seven  years  after  he  had  been 
consul ; but  I thought  that  his  licentiousHess  should  be  stig- 
matized. For  that  man,  when  he  was  consul  in  Gaul,  was  pre- 
vailed on  at  a banquet,  by  a courtezan,  to  behead  one  of  those 
who  were  in  chains,  condemned  on  a capital  charge.  He  es- 
caped in  the  censorship  of  his  brother  Titus,  who  had  immedi- 
ately preceded  me  : but  so  profiigate  and  abandoned  an  act  of 
lust  could  by  no  means  be  allowed  to  pass  by  me  and  Flaccus, 
since  with  private  infamy  it  combined  the  disgrace  of  the  em- 
pire. 

XIII.  I have  often  heard  from  my  elders,  wLo  said  that, 
in  like  manner,  they,  when  boys,  had  heard  from  old  men, 
that  Caius  Fabricius  was  wont  to  wonder  that  when  he  was 
embassador  to  king  Pyrrhus,  he  had  heard  from  Cineas  the 
Thessalian,  that  there  was  a certain  person  at  Athens,  who 
professed  himself  a wise  man,  and  that  he  was  accustomed  to 
say  that  all  things  which  we  did  were  to  be  referred  to 
pleasure : and  that  hearing  him  say  so,  Manius  Curius  and 
Titus  Coruncanius  were  accustomed  to  wish  that  that  might 

business  to  tho  city  in  which  he  resided,  and  to  use  all  the  interest  he 
possessed  in  furthering  the  purpose  of  their  mission. 

1 Prodio  Caudino,  Caudi  and  Caudium,  a town  of  the  Samnites,  near 
which,  in  a place  called  Caudinae  Furculae  or  Fauces,  the  Romans  were 
defeated  and  made  to  pass  under  the  yoke  of  Pontius  Herennius. 

2 Consulibus  L.  Camillo^  etc.  a.u.c.  330, 


CHAP.  XIII. 


CICEKO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


237 


be  the  persuasion  of  the  Samnites  and  Pyrrhus  himself,  that 
they  mi£:ht  the  more  easily  be  conquered  when  they  had 
given  themselves  up  to  pleasure.  Manius  Curius  had  lived 
with  Publius  Decius,  who,  five  years  before  the  consulship 
of  the  former,  had  devoted  himself  for  the  commonwealth  in 
his  fourth  consulship.  Fabricius  had  been  acquainted  with 
him,  and  Coruncanius  had  also  known  him ; who,  as  well 
from  his  own  conduct  in  life,  as  from  the  great  action  of 
him  whom  I mention,  Publius  Decius,  judged  that  there  was 
doubtless  something  in  its  own  nature  excellent  and  glorious, 
which  should  be  followed  for  its  own  sake,  and  which,  scorn- 
ing and  despising  pleasure,  all  the  worthiest  men  pursued. 
To  what  end  then  have  I said  so  many  things  about  pleas- 
ure ? Because  it  is  so  far  from  being  any  disparagement, 
that  it  is  even  the  highest  praise  to  old  age,  that  it  has  no 
great  desire  for  any  pleasures.  It  lacks  banquets,  and  piled- 
up  boards,  and  fast-coming  goblets ; it  is  therefore  also  free 
from  drunkenness  and  indigestion  and  sleeplessness.  But  if 
something  must  be  conceded  to  pleasure  (since  we  do  not 
easily  withstand  its  allurements,  for  Plato  beautifully  calls 
pleasure  the  bait  of  evils,  inasmuch  as,  by  it,  in  fact,  men 
are  caught  as  fishes  with  a hook),  although  old  age  has 
nothing  to  do  with  extravagant  banquets,  yet  in  reasonable 
entertainments  it  can  experience  pleasure.  I,  when  a boy, 
often  saw  Caius  Duilius,^  son  of  Marcus,  the  first  man  who 
had  conquered  the  Carthaginians  by  sea,  returning  from 
dinner,  when  an  old  man : he  took  delight  in  numerous 
torches  and  musicians,  things  which  he,  as  a private  person, 
had  assumed  to  himself  wdthout  any  precedent : so  much 
indulgence  did  his  glory  give  him.  But  why  do  I refer  to 
others  ? let  me  now  return  to  myself.  First  of  all,  I always 
had  associates  in  clubs ; and  clubs  were  established  w^hen 
I was  quaestor,  on  the  Idaean  worship  of  the  great  mother 
being  adopted.  Therefore  I feasted  with  my  associates" 
altogether  in  a moderate  way;  but  there  was  a kind  of 
fervor  peculiar  to  that  time  of  life,  and  as  that  advances,  all 
things  will  become  every  day  more  subdued.  For  I did  not 
calculate  the  gratification  of  those  banquets  by  tbe  pleasures 

^ C.  Builius^  surnamed  Nepos^  obtained  a naval  victo.^  over  tho  Cat 
thaginians,  B.c.  260. 

^ Sodalitia  were  club-feasts,  corporation  dinners,  etc. 


238 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XIV. 


of  the  body,  so  much  as  by  the  meetings  of  friends  and  con- 
versations. For  well  did  our  ancestors  style  the  reclining 
of  friends  at  an  entertainment,  because  it  carried  with  it  a 
union  of  life,  by  the  name  “ convivium”  ^ better  than  the 
Greeks  do,  who  call  this  same  thing  as  well  by  the  name  of 
“ compotatio  ” as  “ conccenatio so  that  what  in  that  kind 
(of  pleasure)  is  of  the  least  value,  that  they  appear  most  to 
approve  of. 

XIV.  For  my  part,  on  account  of  the  pleasure  of  conver- 
sation, I am  delighted  also  with  seasonable  entertainments, 
not  only  with  those  of  my  own  age,  of  whom  very  few  sur- 
vive, but  with  those  of  your  age,  and  with  you ; and  I give 
great  thanks  to  old  age,  which  has  increased  my  desire  for 
conversation,  and  taken  away  that  of  eating  and  drinking. 
But  even  if  such  things  delight  any  person  (that  I may  not; 
appear  altogether  to  have  declared  war  against  pleasure,  of 
which  perhaps  a certain  limited  degree  is  even  natural),  I 
am  not  aware  that  even  in  these  pleasures  themselves  old  age 
is  without  enjoyment.  For  my  part,  the  presidencies^  estab- 
lished by  our  ancestors  delight  me ; and  that  conversation, 
which  after  the  manner  of  our  ancestors,  is  kept  up  over  our 
cups  from  the  top  of  the  table  ; and  the  cups,  as  in  the  Sym- 
posium of  Xenophon,  small  and  dewy,  and  the  cooling  of 
the  wine  in  summer,  and  in  turn  either  the  sun,  or  the  fire 
in  winter : practices  which  I am  accustomed  to  follow  among 
the  Sabines  also,  and  I daily  join  a party  of  neighbors, 
which  we  prolong  with  various  conversation  till  late  at 
night,  as  far  as  we  can.  But  there  is  not,  as  it  were,  so 
ticklish  a sensibility  of  pleasures  in  old  men.  I believe  it: 
but  then  neither  is  there  the  desire.  But  nothing  is  irksome, 
unless  you  long  for  it.  Well  did  Sophocles,  when  a certain 
man  inquired  of  him  advanced  in  age,  w^hether  he  enjoyed 
venereal  pleasures,  reply,  “The  gods  give  me  something 
better ; nay,  I have  run  away  from  them  with  gladness,  as 
from  a wild  and  furious  tyrant.”  For  to  men  fond  of  such 
things,  it  is  perhaps  disagreeable  and  irksome  to  be  without 
them  ; but  to  the  contented  and  satisfied  it  is  more  delightful 
to  want  them  than  to  enjoy  them : and  yet  he  does  not  w^ant 
wdio  feels  no  desire;  therefore  I say  that  this  freedom  from 

^ Convivium^  which  the  Greeks  call  (JVfnroGiov. 

2 “ Nec  regna  vini  sortiere  talis.” — Horace,  Book  I.  Ode  4. 


CHAP.  XI Y. 


CICEUO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


239 


desire  is  more  delightful  than  enjoyment.  But  if  the  prime 
of  life  has  more  cheerful  enjoyment  of  those  very  pleasures, 
in  the  first  place  they  are  hut  petty  objects  wich  it  en- 
joys, as  I have  said  before ; then  they  are  those  of  which 
old  age,  if  it  does  not  abundantly  possess  them,  is  not 
altogether  destitute.  As  he  is  more  delighted  with  Turpio 
Ambivius,  who  is  spectator  on  the  foremost  bench, ^ yet 
he  also  is  delighted  who  is  in  the  hindmost;  so  youth 
having  a close  view  of  pleasure,  is  perhaps  more  grati- 
fied; but  old  age  is  as  much  delighted  as  is  necessary  in 
viewing  them  at  a distance.  But  of  what  high  value  are  the 
following  circumstances,  that  the  soul,  after  it  has  served  out, 
as  it  were,  its  time  under  lust,  ambition,  contention,  enmities, 
and  all  the  passions,  shall  retire  within  itself,  and,  as  the 
phrase  is,  live  with  itself  ? But  if  it  has,  as  it  were,  food  for 
study  and  learning,  nothing  is  more  delightful  than  an  old  age 
of  leisure.  I saw  Caius  Gallus,  the  intimate  friend  of  your 
father,  Scipio,  almost  expiring  in  the  employment  of  calcu- 
lating the  sky  and  the  earth.  How  often  did  daylight  over- 
take him  when  he  had  begun  to  draw  some  figure  by  night, 
how  often  did  night  when  he  had  begun  in  the  morning? 
How  it  did  delight  him  to  predict  to  us  the  eclipses  of  the  sun 
and  the  moon  long  before  their  occurrence  ! What  shall  we 
say  in  the  case  of  pursuits  less  dignified,  yet,  notwithstanding, 
requiring  acuteness ! How  Naevius  did  delight  in  his  Punic 
war  ! how  Plautius  in  his  Truculentus  ! how  in  his  Pseudolus  ! 
I saw  also  the  old  man  Livy,^  who,  though  he  had  brought  a 
play  upon  the  stage  six  years  before  I was  born,  in  the  consul- 
ship of  Cento  and  Tuditanus,  yet  advanced  in  age  even  to  the 
time  of  my  youth.  Why  should  I speak  of  Publius  Licinius 
Crassus’s  study  both  of  pontifical  and  civil  law?  or  of  the 
present  Publius  Scipio,  who  within  these  few  days  was  cre- 
ated chief  pontiff?  Yet  we  have  seen  all  these  persons  whom 
I have  mentioned,  ardent  in  these  pursuits  when  old  men. 
But  as  to  Marcus  Cethegus,  whom  Ennius  rightly  called  the 

^ Friina  caved.  The  theater  was  of  a semicircular  form : the  foremost 
rows  next  the  stage  were  called  orchestra : fourteen  rows  behind  them 
were  assigned  to  the  knights,  the  rest  to  the  people.  The  whole  was 
frequently  called  cavea. 

^ Livius  Andronicus  flourished  at  Rome  about  240  years  before  tlie 
Christian  era. 


240 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XV, 


“ marrow  of  persuasion,”  with  what  great  zeal  did  we  see  him 
engage  in  the  practice  of  oratory,  even  when  an  old  man  ! 
What  pleasures,  therefore,  arising  from  banquets,  or  plays, 
or  harlots,  are  to  be  compared  with  these  pleasures?  And 
these,  indeed,  are  the  pursuits  of  learning,  which  too,  with 
the  sensible  and  well  educated,  increase  along  with  their  age : 
so  that  is  a noble  saying  of  Solon,  when  he  says  in  a certain 
verse,  as  I observed  before,  that  he  grew  old  learning  many 
things  every  day — than  which  pleasure  of  the  mind,  certainly, 
none  can  be  greater. 

XV.  I come  now  to  the  pleasures  of  husbandmen,  with 
which  I am  excessively  delighted  ; which  are  not  checked 
by  any  old  age,  and  appear  in  my  mind  to  make  the 
nearest  approach  to  the  life  of  a wise  man.^  For  they  have 
relation  to  the  earth,  which  never  refuses  command,  and 
never  returns  without  interest  that  which  it  hath  received; 
but  sometimes  with  less,  generally  with  very  great  interest. 
And  yet  for  my  part  it  is  not  only  the  product,  but  the  virtue 
and  nature  of  the  earth  itself  delights  me ; which,  when  in 
its  softened  and  subdued  bosom  it  has  received  the  scattered 
seed,  first  of  all  confines  what  is  hidden  within  it,  from  which 
harrowing,  which  produces  that  effect,  derives  its  name 
(occatio) ; then,  when  it  is  warmed  by  heat  and  its  own  com- 
pression, it  spreads  it  out,  and  elicits  from  it  the  verdant 
blade,  which,  supported  by  the  fibers  of  the  roots,  gradually 
grows  up,  and,  rising  on  a jointed  stalk,  is  now  inclosed  in  a 
sheath,  as  if  it  were  of  tender  age,  out  of  which,  when  it 
hath  shot  up,  it  then  pours  forth  the  fruit  of  the  ear,  piled  in 
due  order,  and  is  guarded  by  a rampart  of  beards  against  the 
pecking  of  the  smaller  birds.  Why  should  I,  in  the  case 
cf  vines,  tell  of  the  plantings,  the  risings,  the  stages  of 
growth  ? That  you  may  know  the  repose  and  amusement  of 
my  old  age,  I assure  you  that  I can  never  have  enough  of 
that  gratification.  For  I pass  over  the  peculiar  nature  of  all 
things  which  are  produced  from  the  earth  : which  generates 

^ “ God  Almighty  first  planted  a garden ; and  indeed  it  is  the  purest 
of  human  pleasures : it  is  the  greatest  refreshment  to  the  spirits  of  man ; 
without  which  buildings  and  palaces  are  but  gross  handy-works,  and  a 
man  shall  ever  see,  that,  when  ages  grow  to  civility  and  elegancy,  men 
come  to  build  stately  sooner  than  to  garden  finely ; as  if  gardening  weri* 
t!ie  greater  perfection.” — Lord  Bacon,  Essay  46. 


CHAP.  XY. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


241 


such  great  trunks  and  branches  from  so  small  a grain  of  the 
lig  or  from  the  grape-stone,  or  from  the  minutest  seeds  of 
other  fruits  and  roots : shoots,  plants,  twigs,  quicksets,  layers, 
do  not  these  produce  the  effect  of  delighting  any  one  even  to 
admiration  ? The  vine,  indeed,  which  by  nature  is  prone  to 
fall,  and  is  borne  down  to  the  ground,  unless  it  be  propped, 
in  order  to  raise  itself  up,  embraces  with  its  tendrils,  as  it 
were  with  hands,  whatever  it  meets  with ; which,  as  it  creeps 
with  manifold  and  wandering  course,  the  skill  of  the  hus- 
bandmen, pruning  with  the  knife,  restrains  from  running 
into  a forest  of  twigs,  and  spreading  too  far  in  all  directions. 
Accordingly,  in  the  beginning  of  spring,  in  those  twigs 
which  are  left,  there  rises  up  as  it  were  at  the  joints  of  the 
branches  that  which  is  called  a bud,  from  which  the  nascent 
grape  shows  itself;  which,  increasing  in  size  by  the  moisture 
of  the  earth  and  the  heat  of  the  sun,  is  at  first  very  acid  to 
the  taste,  and  then  as  it  ripens  grows  sweet,  and  being 
clothed  with  its  large  leaves  does  not  want  moderate  warmth, 
and  yet  keeps  oft*  the  excessive  heat  of  the  sun ; than  which 
what  can  be  in  fruit  on  the  one  hand  more  rich,  or  on  the 
other  hand  more  beautiful  in  appearance  ? Of  which  not 
only  the  advantage,  as  I said  before,  but  also  the  cultivation 
and  the  nature  itself  delights  me : the  rows  of  props,  the 
joining  of  the  heads,  the  tying  up  and  propagation  of  vines, 
and  the  pruning  of  some  twigs,  and  the  grafting  of  others, 
which  I have  mentioned.  Why  should  I allude  to  irriga- 
tions, why  to  the  diggings  of  the  ground,  why  to  the  trenching 
by  which  the  ground  is  made  much  more  productive  ? Why 
should  I speak  of  the  advantage  of  manuring  ? I have  treated 
of  it  in  that  book  which  I wrote  respecting  rural  affairs, 
concerning  which  the  learned  Hesiod  has  not  said  a single 
word,  though  he  has  written  about  the  cultivation  of  the 
land.  But  Homer,  Avho,  as  appears  to  me,  lived  many  ages 
before,  introduces  Laertes  soothing  the  regret  which  he  felt 
for  his  son,  by  tilling  the  land  and  manuring  it.  Nor  in- 
deed is  rural  life  delightful  by  reason  of  corn-fields  only 
and  meadows  and  vineyards  and  groves,  but  also  for  its 
gardens  and  orchards ; also  for  the  feeding  of  cattle,  the 
swarms  of  bees,  and  the  variety  of  all  kinds  of  flowers.^  Nor 

1 “ I look  upon  the  pleasure  which  we  take  in  a garden,  as  one  of  the 
most  innocent  delights  in  human  life.  A garden  was  the  habitation  of 

11 


242 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XVI. 


do  plantings'  only  give  me  delight,  but  also  engraftings ; 
than  which  agriculture  has  invented  nothing  more  inge- 
nious. 

XVI.  I can  enumerate  many  amusements  of  rustic  life ; 
but  even  those  things  which  I have  mentioned,  I perceive  to 
have  been  rather  long.  But  you  will  forgive  me;  for  both 
from  my  love  of  rural  life  I have  been  carried  away,  and  old 
age  is  by  nature  rather  talkative,  that  I may  not  appear  to 
vindicate  it  from  all  failings.  In  such  a life  then  as  this, 
Marcus  Curius,*  after  he  had  triumphed  over  the  Samnites, 
over  the  Sabines,  over  Pyrrhus,  spent  the  closing  period  of 
his  existence.  In  contemplating  whose  country  seat,  too 
(for  ]t  is  not  far  distant  from  my  house),  I can  not  sufficiently 
admire  either  the  continence  of  the  man  himself,  or  the  moral 
character  of  the  times. 

When  the  Samnites  had  brought  a great  quantity  of  gold  to 
Curius  as  he  sat  by  his  fire-side,  they  were  repelled  with  dis- 
dain by  him ; for  he  said  that  it  did  not  appear  to  him  glorious 
to  possess  gold,  but  to  have  power  over  those  who  possessed 
gold.  Could  so  great  a soul  fail  in  rendering  old  age  pleasant  ? 
But  I come  to  husbandmen,  that  I may  not  digress  from  my- 
self. In  the  country  at  that  time  there  were  senators,  and 
they  too  old  men  : inasmuch  as  Lucius  Quintus  Cincinnatus 
was  at  the  plow  when  it  was  announced  to  him  that  he  was 
made  dictator  : by  whose  command  when  dictator,  Cains 
Servilius  Ahala,  the  master  of  the  horse,  arrested  and  put 
to  death  Spurius  Melius,  who  was  aspiring  to  kingly  power. 
From  their  country  house,  Curius  and  other  old  men  were 
summoned  to  the  senate,  from  which  cause  they  who  sum- 
moned them  were  termed  “viatores.”  Was  then  their  old 
age  to  be  pitied,  who  amused  themselves  in  the  cultivation 
of  land?  In  my  opinion,  indeed,  I know  not  whether  any 
other  can  be  more  happy : and  not  only  in  the  discharge  of 

our  first  parents  before  the  fall.  It  is  naturally  apt  to  fill  the  mind  with 
calmness  and  tranquillity,  and  to  lay  all  its  turbulent  passions  at  rest. 
It  gives  us  a great  insight  into  the  contrivance  and  wisdom  of  Prov- 
idence, and  suggests  innumerable  subjects  for  meditation.” — Spectator, 
No  477. 

' Gonsitio^  sowing  or  planting;  insitio^  grafting;  repastinatio^  trench- 
ing. 

■■2  Curius  Dentatus  Marcus  Annius^  celebrated  for  his  fortitude  and 
frugality.  He  was  thrice  consul,  and  twice  honored  with  a triumph. 


CHAP.  XVII. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


243 


duty,  because  to  the  whole  race  of  mankind  the  cultivation 
of  the  land  is  beneficial ; but  also  from  the  amusement,  which 
I have  mentioned,  and  that  fullness  and  abundance  of  all 
things  which  are  connected  with  the  food  of  men,  and  also 
with  the  worship  of  the  gods;  so  that,  since  some  have  a 
desire  for  these  things,  we  may  again  put  ourselves  on  good 
terms  with  pleasure.  For  the  wine-cellar  of  a good  and 
diligent  master  is  always  well  stored  ; the  oil-casks,  the 
pantry  also,  the  whole  farm-house  is  richly  supplied ; it 
abounds  in  pigs,  kids,  lambs,  hens,  milk,  cheese,  honey. 
Then,  too,  the  countrymen  themselves  call  the  garden  a 
second  dessert.  And  then  what  gives  a greater  relish  to 
these  things  is  that  kind  of  leisure  labor,  fowling  and  hunt- 
ing. Why  should  I speak  of  the  greenness  of  meadows,  or 
the  rows  of  trees,  or  the  handsome  appearance  of  vineyards 
and  olive  grounds  ? Let  me  cut  the  matter  short.  Nothing 
can  be  either  more  rich  in  use,  or  more  elegant  in  appear- 
ance than  ground  well  tilled  ; to  the  enjoyment  of  which 
old  age  is  so  far  from  being  an  obstacle,  that  it  is  even 
an  invitation  and  allurement.  For  where  can  that  age 
be  better  warmed  either  by  basking  in  the  sun  or  by  the 
fire,  or  again  be  more  healthfully  refreshed  by  shades  or 
waters  ? Let  the  young,  therefore,  keep  to  themselves  their 
arms,  horses,  • spears,  clubs,  tennis-ball,  swimmings,  and 
races : to  us  old  men  let  them  leave  out  of  many  amuse- 
ments the  tali  and  tesserce  and  even  in  that  matter  it  may 
be  as  they  please,  since  old  age  can  be  happy  without  these 
amusements. 

XVII.  For  many  purposes  the  books  of  Xenophon  are 
very  useful ; which  read,  I pray  you,  with  diligence,  as  you 
are  doing.  At  what  length  is  agriculture  praised  by  him  in 
that  book,  which  treats  of  the  management  of  private  property, 
and  which  is  styled  “ OEconomicus.”  ^ And  that  you  may 
understand  that  nothing  to  him  appears  so  kingly  as  the  pur- 
suit of  agriculture,  Socrates  in  that  book  converses  with  Crito- 

1 TessercB  had  six  sides  marked  1,  2,  3,  etc.,  like  our  dice.  The  tali 
had  four  sides  longwise,  the  ends  not  being  regarded.  The  lowest  throw 
(unio\  the  ace,  was  called  canis : the  highest  {senio  or  sice)j  was  called 
Venus ; the  dice-box,  Fritillus. 

2 (Economicus.  A dialogue  of  Xenophon,  in  which  he  treats  of  the 
management  of  a farm,  horses,  etc. 


244 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AOE. 


CHAP.  XVII. 


bulus,  [and  remarks]  that  Cyrus  the  younger/  king  of  the 
Persians,  pre-eminent  in  talent  and  the  glory  of  his  empire, 
when  Lysander*  the  Lacedaemonian,  a man  of  the  highest 
valor,  had  come  to  him  at  Sardis,  and  had  brought  to  him 
presents  from  the  allies,  both  in  other  respects  was  courteous 
and  kind  toward  Lysander,  and  in  particular  showed  to  him 
an  inclosed  piece  of  ground  planted  with  great  care.  And  that 
when  Lysander  admired  both  the  tallness  of  the  trees  and  the 
lines  arranged  in  a quincunx,  and  the  ground  well  cultivated 
and  clear,  and  the  sweetness  of  the  perfumes  which  were 
breathed  from  the  flowers,  he  said  that  he  admired  not  only  the 
diligence,  but  also  the  skillfulness  of  the  man  by  whom  these 
grounds  had  been  planned  and  measured  out ; and  that  Cyrus 
answered  him,  “ Well,  it  was  I who  planned  all  these  grounds  ; 
mine  are  the  rows,  mine  the  laying  out ; many  also  of  these 
trees  were  planted  by  my  own  hand.”  That  then  Lysander, 
beholding  his  purple  robe  and  the  elegance  of  his  person,  and 
his  Persian  dress  adorned  with  much  gold  and  many  jewels, 
said,  0 Cyrus,  they  truly  report  you  as  happy,  since  excel- 
lence is  combined  with  your  fortune  !”  This  lot  then  old  men 
may  enjoy  ; nor  does  age  hinder  us  from  retaining  the  pursuit 
both  of  other  things,  and  especially  of  cultivating  the  land, 
even  to  the  last  period  of  old  age.  In  the  case  of  Marcus 
Valerius  Corvus,  we  have  heard  that  he  continued  to  live  to 
his  hundredth  year,  while,  when  his  (active)  life  had  been 
spent,  he  lived  in  the  country  and  tilled  the  land:  between 
whose  first  and  sixth  consulship  forty-six  years  intervened. 
Thus,  as  long  a period  of  life  as  our  ancestors  considered  to 
reach  to  the  beginning  of  old  age,  just  so  long  was  the  career 
of  his  honors  : and  the  close  of  his  life  was  happier  on  this 
account  than  the  middle,  because  it  had  more  of  authority 
and  less  of  toil.  Now  authority  is  the  crown  of  old  age.  How 
great  was  it  in  Lucius  Csecilius  Metellus  ! how  great  in 
Atilius  Calatinus!  on  whom  was  that  singular  inscription — 
“ Many  nations  agree  that  he  was  the  leading  man  of  the 
people.”  It  is  a w^ell-known  epitaph,  inscribed  on  his  tomb. 
He  therefore  was  justly  dignified,  about  whose  praises  the 

* Cyrus  the  younger.  He  attempted  to  dethrone  his  brother  Arta- 
xerxes,  and  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Cynaxa,  b.c.  401. 

2 Lysander  defeated  the  Athenian  fleet  at  the  battle  of  uEgos  Potamos, 
B.c.  405,  and  put  an  end  to  the  Peloponnesian  war. 


CHAP.  IVIIL 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


245 


report  of  all  men  was  concurrent.  How  great  a man  have 
we  seen  in  Publius  Crassus,  late  pontifex  maximus ; how 
great  a man  subsequently  in  Marcus  Lepidus,  invested  with 
the  same  sacerdotal  office  ! Why  should  I speak  of  Paulus  or 
Africanus  ? or,  as  I have  already  done,  about  Maximus  ? men 
not  only  in  whose  expressed  judgment,  but  even  in  whose 
acquiescence  authority  resided.  Old  age,  especially  an  honored 
old  age,  has  so  great  authority,  that  this  is  of  more  value  than 
all  the  pleasures  of  youth. 

XVIII.  But  in  my  whole  discourse  remember  that  I am 
praising  that  old  age  which  is  established  on  the  foundations 
of  youth : from  which  this  is  effected  which  I once  asserted 
with  the  great  approbation  of  all  present — that  wretched 
was  the  old  age  which  had  to  defend  itself  by  speaking. 
Neither  gray  hairs  nor  wrinkles  can  suddenly  catch  respect ; 
but  the  former  part  of  life  honorably  spent,  reaps  the  fruits 
of  authority  at  the  close.  For  these  very  observances,  which 
seem  light  and  common,  are  marks  of  honor — to  be  saluted,  to 
be  sought  after,  to  receive  precedence,  to  have  persons  rising 
up  to  you,  to  be  attended  on  the  way,  to  be  escorted  home,  to 
be  consulted  ; points  which,  both  among  us  and  in  other  states, 
in  proportion  as  they  are  the  most  excellent  in  their  morals,  are 
the  most  scrupulously  observed.  They  say  that  Lysander  the 
Lacedaemonian,  whom  I mentioned  a little  above,  was  accus- 
tomed to  remark,  that  Lacedaemon  was  the  most  honorable 
abode  for  old  age ; for  nowhere  is  so  much  conceded  to  that 
time  of  life,  nowhere  is  old  age  more  respected.  Nay,  further^ 
it  is  recorded  that  when  at  Athens,  during  the  games,  a cer- 
tain elderly  person  had  entered  the  theater,  a place  was 
nowhere  offered  him  in  that  large  assembly  by  his  own 
townsmen ; but  when  he  had  approached  the  Lacedaemonians, 
who,  as  they  were  embassadors,  had  taken  their  seats  together 
in  a particular  place,  they  all  rose  up  and  invited  the  old 
man  to  a seat ; and  when  reiterated  applause  had  been  be- 
stowed upon  them  by  the  whole  assembly,  one  of  them 
remarked,  that  the  Athenians  knew  what  was  right,  but 
were  unwilling  to  do  it.  There  are  many  excellent  rules  in 
our  college,^  but  this  of  which  I am  treating  especially,  that 
in  proportion  as  each  man  has  the  advantage  in  age,  so  he 

^ In  nostro  coUegio,  The  College  of  Augurs  is  here  meant,  which 
Cicero  calls  “ amplissimi  sacerdotii  collegium.” 


246 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XIX, 


takes  precedence  in  giving  liis  opinion ; and  older  augurs  are 
preferred  not  only  to  those  who  are  higher  in  office,  hut  even 
to  such  as  are  in  actual  command.  What  pleasures,  then,  of 
the  body  can  be  compared  with  the  privileges  of  authority  ? 
which  they  who  have  nobly  employed  seem  to  me  to  have 
consummated  the  drama  of  life,  and  not  like  inexpert  per- 
formers to  have  broken  down  in  the  last  act.  Still  old  men 
are  peevish,  and  fretful,  and  passionate,  and  unmanageable 
— nay,  if  we  seek  for  such,  also  covetous : but  these  are  the 
faults  of  their  characters,  not  of  their  old  age.  And  yet 
that  peevishness  and  those  faults  which  I have  mentioned 
have  some  excuse,  not  quite  satisfactory  indeed,  but  such 
as  may  be  admitted.  They  fancy  that  they  are  neglected, 
despised,  made  a jest  of ; besides,  in  a weak  state  of  body 
every  offense  is  irritating.  All  which  defects,  however, 
are  extenuated  by  good  dispositions  and  qualities ; and  this 
may  be  discovered  not  only  in  real  life,  but  on  the  stage, 
from  the  two  brothers  that  are  represented  in  the  Brothers 
how  much  austerity  in  the  one,  and  how  much  gentleness  in 
the  other  1 Such  is  the  fact : for  as  it  is  not  every  wine,  so 
it  is  not  every  man’s  life,  that  grows  sour  from  old  age.  I 
approve  of  gravity  in  old  age,  but  this  in  a moderate  degree, 
like  every  thing  else ; harshness  by  no  means.^  What  avarice 
in  an  old  man  can  propose  to  itself  I can  not  conceive : for 
can  any  thing  be  more  absurd  than,  in  proportion  as  less  of. 
our  journey  remains,  to  seek  a greater  supply  of  provisions  ? 

XIX.  A fourth  reason  remains,  which  seems  most  of  all 
to  distress  and  render  anxious  our  time  of  life,  namely,  the 
near  approach  of  death,  vvffiich  certainly  can  not  be  far  distant 
from  old  age.  O wretched  old  man,  who  in  so  long  a time 
of  life  hast  not  seen  that  death  is  a thing  to  be  despised! 
Which  either  ought  altogether  to  be  regarded  with  indifier- 
ence,  if  it  entirely  annihilates  the  mind,  or  ought  even  to  be 

^ Adeljphi.  A play  of  Terence : Demea  and  Micio  are  the  names  of  the 
two  old  men  alluded  to  here. 

^ “Nothing  is  more  despicable  or  more  miserable,  than  the  old  age  of 
a passionate  man.  When  the  vigor  of  youth  fails  him,  and  his  amuse- 
ments pall  with  frequent  repetition,  his  occasional  rage  sinks  by  decay 
of  strength  into  peevishness ; that  peevishness,  for  want  of  novelty  and 
variety,  becomes  habitual ; the  world  falls  off  from  around  him,  and  he 
is  left,  as  Homer  expresses  it,  ‘ (j)otvvduv  (piXov  ktjPj  to  devour  his  own 
heart  in  solitude  and  contempt.” — Rambler,  No.  11. 


CHAP.  XIX 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


247 


desired,  if  it  leads  it  to  a place  wliere  it  is  destined  to  be  im- 
mortal.^ Yet  no  third  alternative  certainly  can  be  found. 

What,  therefore,  should  I fear,  if  after  death  I am  sure 
either  not  to  be  miserable  or  to  be  happy  ? Although  who  is 
so  foolish,  though  he  be  young,  as  to  be  assured  that  he  will 
live  even  till  the  evening  ? Nay,  that  period  of  life  has 
many  more  probabilities  of  death  than  ours  has : young 
men  more  readily  fall  into  diseases,  suffer  more  severely,  are 
cured  with  more  difficulty,  and  therefore  few  arrive  at  old 
age.  Did  not  this  happen  so,  we  should  live  better  and  more 
wisely,  for  intelligence,  and  reflection,  and  judgment  reside 
in  old  men,  and  if  there  had  been  none  of  them,  no  states 
could  exist  at  all.  But  I return  to  the  imminence  of  death. 
What  charge  is  that  against  old  age,  since  you  see  it  to  be 
common  to  youth  also  ? I experienced  not  only  in  the  case 
of  my  own  excellent  son,  but  also  in  that  of  your  brothers, 
Scipio,  men  plainly  marked  out  for  the  highest  distinction, 

1 “I  thank  God  I have  not  those  straight  ligaments  or  narrow  obli- 
gations to  the  world  as  to  dote  on  life,  or  be  convulst  and  tremble  at  the 
name  of  death : not  that  I am  insensible  of  the  dread  and  horror  thereof 
or  by  taking  into  the  bowels  of  the  deceased  continual  sight  of  anatomies, 
skeletons,  or  cadaverous  reliques  like  vespillores,  or  grave-makers ; I am 
become  stupid,  or  have  forgot  the  apprehension  of  mortality,  but  that 
marshaling  all  the  honors,  and  contemplating  the  extremities  thereof,  I 
find  not  any  thing  therein  able  to  daunt  my  courage  of  a man,  much  less 
a well  resolved  Christian ; and  therefore  am  not  angry  at  the  error  of 
our  first  parents,  or  unwilling  to  bear  a part  of  this  common  fall,  and,  like 
the  best  of  them,  to  die ; that  is,  to  cease  to  breathe,  to  take  a farewell 
of  the  elements,  to  be  a kind  of  nothing  for  a moment,  to  be  within  one 
instant  of  a spirit.  When  I take  a full  view  and  circle  of  myself  without 
this  reasonable  moderator  and  equal  piece  of  justice,  I do  conceive  my- 
self the  miserablest  person  extant ; were  there  not  another  life  that  I 
hope  for,  all  the  vanities  of  this  world  should  not  intreat  a moment’s 
breath  from  me ; could  the  devil  work  my  belief  to  imagine  I could  never 
die,  I would  not  outlive  that  very  thought ; I have  so  abject  a conceit 
of  this  common  way  of  existence,  this  retaining  to  the  sun  and  elements 
— I can  not  think  this  is  to  be  a man,  or  to  live  according  to  the  dignity 
of  humanity : in  expectation  of  a better,  I can  with  patience  embrace 
this  life  ; yet  in  my  best  meditations  do  often  defy  death ; I honor  any 
man  that  contemns  it,  nor  can  highly  love  any  that  is  afraid  of  it.  This 
makes  me  naturally  love  a soldier,  and  honor  those  tattered  and  con- 
temptible regiments  that  will  die  at  the  command  of  a sergeant.  For  a 
pagan,  there  may  be  some  motives  to  be  in  love  with  life ; but  for  a 
Christian  to  be  amazed  at  death,  I see  not  how  he  can  escape  this  dilem- 
ma, that  he  is  too  sensible  of  this  life,  or  hopeless  of  the  life  to  come.” — ^ 
Sir  Thomas  Browne’s  Eeligio  Medici^  chap.  xxxviiL 


248 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XIX 


that  death  was  common  to  every  period  of  life.  Yet  a young 
man  hopes  that  he  will  live  a long  time,  which  expectation 
an  old  man  can  not  entertain.  His  hope  is  but  a foolish  one : 
for  what  can  be  more  foolish  than  to  regard  uncertainties  as 
certainties,  delusions  as  truths  ? An  old  man  indeed  has 
nothing  to  hope  for ; yet  he  is  in  so  much  the  happier  state 
than  a young  one  ; since  he  has  already  attained  what  the 
other  is  only  hoping  for.  The  one  is  wishing  to  live  long, 
the  other  has  lived  long.  And  yet,  good  gods ! what  is  there 
in  man’s  life  that  can  be  called  long  ? For  allow  the  latest 
period:  let  us  anticipate  the  age  of  the  kings  of  the  Tar- 
tessii.  For  there  dwelt,  as  I find  it  recorded,  a man  named 
Arganthonius  at  Gades,^  who  reigned  for  eighty  years,  and 
lived  120.  But  to  my  mind,  nothing  whatever  seems  of  long 
duration,  in  which  there  is  any  end.  For  when  that  arrives, 
then  the  time  which  has  passed  has  flowed  away ; that  only 
remains  which  you  have  secured  by  virtue  and  right  conduct. 
Hours  indeed  depart  from  us,  and  days  and  months  and 
years;  nor  does  past  time  ever  return,  nor  can  it  be  dis- 
covered what  is  to  follow.  AYhatever  time  is  assigned  to 
each  to  live,  with  that  he  ought  to  be  content : for  neither 
need  the  drama  be  performed  entire  by  the  actor,  in  order 
to  give  satisfaction,  provided  he  be  approved  in  whatever 
act  he  may  be : nor  need  the  wise  man  live  till  the 
•plaudite?  For  the  short  period  of  life  is  long  enough 
for  living  well  and  honorably;^  and  if  you  should  advance 

* Gades^  a small  island  in  the  Atlantic,  now  Cadiz.  It  was  anciently 
called  Tartessus  and  Erythia. 

2 The  last  word  of  the  play  which  invites  the  applause  of  the  audience. 
It  is  here  equivalent  to  the  phrase,  ‘the  fall  of  the  curtain.’ 

3 “ Glory  is  the  portion  of  virtue,  the  sweet  reward  of  honorable  toils, 
the  triumphant  crown  which  covers  the  thoughtful  head  of  the  disinte- 
rested patriot,  or  the  dusty  brow  of  the  victorious  warrior.  Elevated  by 
so  sublime  a prize,  the  man  of  virtue  looks  down  with  contempt  on  all 
the  allurements  of  pleasure,  and  all  the  menaces  of  danger.  Death  itself 
loses  its  terrors  when  he  considers  that  its  dominion  extends  only  over 
a part  of  him,  and  that,  in  spite  of  death  and  time,  the  rage  of  the  ele- 
ments, and  the  endless  vicissitudes  of  human  affairs,  he  is  assured  of  an 
immortal  fame  among  all  the  sons  of  men.  There  surely  is  a Being  who 
presides  over  the  universe ; and  who  with  infinite  wisdom  and  power 
has  reduced  the  jarring  elements  into  just  order  and  proportion.  Let 
speculative  reasoners  dispute  how  far  this  beneficent  Being  extends  his 
care,  and  whether  he  prolongs  our  existence  beyond  the  grave,  in  order 
to  bestow  on  virtue  its  just  reward,  and  render  it  fully  triumphant.  The 


CHAP.  XIX. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


249 


further,  you  need  no  more  grieve  than  farmers  do  when  the 
loveliness  of  spring-time  hath  passed,  that  summer  and 
autumn  have  come.  For  spring  represents  the  time  of  youth, 
and  gives  promise  of  the  future  fruits ; the  remaining  seasons 
are  intended  for  plucking  and  gathering  in  those  fruits.  Now 
the  harvest  of  old  age,  as  I have  often  said,  is  the  recollection 
and  abundance  of  blessings  previously  secured.  In  truth 
every  thing  that  happens  agreeably  to  nature  is  to  be  reckoned 
among  blessings.  What,  however,  is  so  agreeable  to  nature 
as  for  an  old  man  to  die  ? which  even  is  the  lot  of  the  young, 
though  nature  opposes  and  resists.  And  thus  it  is  that 
young  men  seem  to  me  to  die,  just  as  when  the  violence  of 
flame  is  extinguished  by  a flood  of  water ; whereas  old  men 
die,  as  the  exhausted  fire  goes  out,  spontaneously,  without 
the  exertion  of  any  force : and  as  fruits  when  they  are 
green  are  plucked  by  force  from  the  trees,  but  when  ripe-  and 
mellow  drop  off*  so  violence  takes  away  their  lives  from 
youths,  maturity  from  old  men ; a state  which  to  me  indeed 
is  so  delightful  that  the  nearer  I approach  to  death,  I seem 
as  it  were  to  be  getting  sight  of  land,  and  at  length,  after  a 
long  voyage,  to  be  just  coming  into  harbor.' 

man  of  morals,  without  deciding  any  thing  on  so  dubious  a subject,  is 
satisfied  with  the  portion  marked  out  to  him  by  the  supreme  Disposer 
of  all  things.  Gratefully  he  accepts  of  that  further  reward  prepared  for 
him;  but  is  disappointed,  he  thinks  not  virtue  an  empty  name,  but  justly 
esteeming  it  its  own  reward,  he  gratefully  acknowledges  the  bounty  of 
his  Creator,  who,  by  calling  him  into  existence,  has  thereby  afibrded  him 
an  opportunity  of  once  acquiring  so  invaluable  a possession.” — Hume’s 
Essays,  Essay  16. 

^ “ It  is  curious  to  observe  the  difference  in  the  estimate  formed  by 
Cicero  and  the  great  moralist  of  the  last  century  on  the  condition  of  old 
age  and  the  proximity  of  death.  A difference  depending  partly,  no  doubt, 
upon  the  temperament  of  the  two  men,  but  stiU  more  on  their  religious 
notions.  The  other  miseries  which  waylay  our  passage  through  the 
world,  wisdom  may  escape,  and  fortitude  may  conquer  ; by  caution  and 
circumspection,  we  may  steal  along  with  very  little  to  obstruct  or  incom- 
mode us ; by  spirit  and  vigor  we  may  force  a way,  and  reward  the 
vescalion  by  conquest,  by  the  pleasures  of  victory.  But  a time  must  come 
when  our  policy  and  bravery  shall  be  equally  useless ; when  we  shall 
all  sink  into  helplessness  and  sadness,  without  any  power  of  receiving 
solace  from  the  pleasures  that  have  formerly  delighted  us,  or  any  pros- 
pect of  emerging  into  a second  possession  of  the  blessings  that  we  have 
lost.  However  age  may  discourage  us  by  its  appearance  from  consider- 
ing it  in  prospect,  we  shall  all  by  degrees  certainly  be  old,  and  therefore 
we  ought  to  inquire  what  provision  can  be  made  against  that  time  of 


;50 


CICEKO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP,  XX. 


XX.  Of  all  the  periods  of  life  there  is  a definite  limit ; 
but  of  old  age  there  is  no  limit  fixed ; and  life  goes  on  very 
well  in  it,  so  long  as  you  are  able  to  follow  up  and  attend  to 
the  duty  of  your  situation,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  care 
nothing  about  death ; whence  it  happens  that  old  age  is  even 
of  higher  spirit  and  bolder  than  youth.  Agreeable  to  this 
w^as  the  answer  given  to  Pisistratus,^  the  tyrant,  by  Solon  ; 
when  on  the  former  inquiring,  “ in  reliance  on  what  hope 
he  so  boldly  withstood  him,”  the  latter  is  said  to  have 
answered,  ‘‘on  old  age.”  The  happiest  end  of  life  is  this — 
when  the  mind  and  the  other  senses  being  unimpaired,  the 
same  nature,  which  put  it  together,  takes  asunder  her  own 
work.  As  in  the  case  of  a shi|)  or  a house,  he  who  built  them 
takes  them  down  most  easily ; so  the  same  nature  which  has 
compacted  man,  most  easily  breaks  him  up.  Besides,  every 
fastening  of  glue,  when  fresh,  is  with  difficulty  torn  asunder, 
but  easily  when  tried  by  time.  Hence  it  is  that  that  short  rem- 
nant of  life  should  be  neither  greedily  coveted,  nor  without 
reason  given  up : and  Pythagoras  forbids  us  to  abandon  the 
station  or  post  of  life  without  the  orders  of  our  commander, 
that  is  of  God.*  There  is  indeed  a saying  of  the  wise  Solon,  in 

distress  ? what  happiness  can  be  stored  up  against  the  winter  of  life  ? 
and  how  we  may  pass  our  latter  years  with  serenity  and  cheerfulness  ? 
If  it  has  been  found  by  the  experience  of  mankind,  that  not  even  the  best 
seasons  of  life  are  able  to  supply  sufficient  gratifications  without  antici- 
pating uncertain  felicities,  it  can  not  surely  be  supposed  that  old  age, 
worn  with  labors,  harassed  with  anxieties,  and  tortured  with  diseases, 
should  have  any  gladness  of  its  own,  or  feel  any  satisfaction  from  the 
contemplation  of  the  present.  All  the  comfort  that  can  now  be  expect- 
ed must  be  recalled  from  the  past,  or  borrowed  from  the  future ; the 
past  is  very  soon  exhausted ; all  the  events  or  actions  of  which  the 
memory  can  afibrd  pleasure,  are  quickly  recollected ; and  the  future  lies 
beyond  the  grave,  where  it  can  be  reached  only  by  virtue  and  devotion. 
Piety  is  the  only  proper  and  adequate  relief  of  decaying  man.” — Ramb- 
ler, No.  69. 

^ FisistratiiSj  tyrant  of  Athens,  reigned  thirty-three  years,  and  died 
about  B.c.  627. 

^ Upon  this  passage  Melmoth  has  a note,  of  which  the  following  is  an 
abstract:  “Although  the  practice  of  suicide  too  generally  prevailed  among 
the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  yet  it  was  a practice  condemned  by  the 
best  and  wisest  of  their  philosophers.  Nothing  can  be  more  clear  and 
express  than  the  prohibition  of  Pythagoras  with  respect  to  this  act,  as 
cited  by  Cicero  in  the  present  passage  ; and  in  this  he  was  followed  both 
by  Socrates  and  Plato,  those  noblest  and  most  enlightened  of  the  pagan 
moralists,  <aonsiderod  suicide  as  an  act  of  rebellion  against  the  authority 


CHAP.  XX. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AOE. 


251 


which  he  declares  that  he  does  not  wish  his  own  death  to  be 
unattended  by  the  grief  and  lamentation  of  friends.  lie 

of  the  Supreme  Being,  who  having  placed  man  in  his  present  post,  hath 
reserved  to  himself  alone  the  right  of  determining  the  proper  time  for  his 
dismission.  Agreeably  to  these  principles,  Cicero  in  his  relation  of 
Scipio’s  dream,  represents  the  departed  spirit  of  Emilius  as  assuring  his 
son,  who  had  expressed  an  impatience  of  joining  him  in  the  heavenly 
mansions,  that  there  was  no  admittance  into  those  regions  of  felicity  for 
the  man  who  attempted  to  force  his  way  into  them  by  his  own  unau- 
thorized act.  The  Platonic  poet,  it  is  well  known,  places  those  unhappy 
persons  in  a state  of  punishment,  who  not  having  the  piety  and  the  cour- 
age to  support  their  misfortunes  with  due  resignation,  impiously  endeav- 
ored to  deliver  themselves  by  venturing  to  be  their  own  executioners.*’ 

Such  were  the  sentiments  of  the  most  approved  moralists  among  tho 
ancient  philosophers ; the  doctrine  of  the  Stoics,  it  must  be  acknowledg- 
ed, was  more  relaxed  upon  this  important  article ; but  although  they  did 
not  scruple  to  represent  it  even  as  a duty  in  some  very  particular  circum- 
stances, they  ought,  if  they  had  reasoned  consequentially  from  their  own 
principles,  to  have  held  it  forth  as  highly  criminal  in  all.  Eor  there  is 
no  precept  of  morality  which  they  inculcate  more  frequently,  nor  in 
stronger  terms,  than  an  unlimited  submission  to  the  dispensations  of 
Providence ; the  truth  is,  the  ancient  writers  of  this  sect  are  not  more  at 
variance  with  reason  than  with  themselves  in  what  they  have  delivered 
upon  this  subject.  Inconsistency,  indeed,  is  one  of  the  characteristical 
marks  of  the  Stoical  system,  as  Plutarch  has  proved  by  a variety  of  in- 
stances drawn  from  the  writings  of  Chrysippus.  Those  of  Seneca  and 
Epictetus  may  equally  be  produced  in  support  of  the  same  charge,  so 
far  at  least  as  relates  to  their  sentiments  on  tho  present  question ; for 
they  sometimes  contend  for  the  lawfulness  of  suicide  without  any  restric- 
tion, sometimes  only  under  very  peculiar  circumstances,  and  sometimes 
zealously  press  upon  their  disciples,  as  an  indispensable  obligation,  tho 
duty  of  a pious  acquiescence  under  all  the  various  calamities  of  human 
life. 

Agreeably  to  this  last  position,  Seneca,  in  answer  to  a querulous  letter 
he  had  received  from  his  friend  Lucilius,  writes  thus: — “A  wise  and 
good  man,”  says  he,  “ should  stand  prepared  for  all  events,  remembering 
that  he  is  destined  to  pass  through  a world  where  pain  and  sorrow,  disease 
and  infirmity,  are  posted  in  his  way.  It  is  not  in  his  power  to  change 
these  conditions  upon  which  he  receives  his  present  existence ; but  it 
certainly  is  to  submit  to  them  with  such  fortitude  and  acquiescence  in 
the  laws  of  nature  as  becomes  a virtuous  mind.  It  should  be  our  con- 
stant endeavor,  therefore,  to  reconcile  our  minds  to  these  unalterable 
laws  of  Providence,  and  to  submit  to  them  without  murmur  or  com- 
plaint ; fully  persuaded  that  every  thing  is  as  it  ought  to  be,  and  that  the 
government  of  the  world  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Supreme  Being.  To  de- 
liver himself  up  to  that  Being  with  an  implicit  and  unreserved  resigna- 
tion, is  the  merit  of  a truly  great  soul,  as  it  is  of  a base  and  little  mind 
to  entertain  unworthy  suspicions  of  the  order  established  in  the  world, 
to  attempt  to  break  through  the  laws  of  Providence  ; and  instead  of  cor- 


252 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XX 


wislies,  I suppose,  that  he  should  be  dear  to  his  friends.  F>ut 
I know  not  whether  Ennius  does  not  say  with  more  propriet}^, 

“ Let  no  one  pay  me  honor  with  tears,  nor  celebrate  my  funeral 
with  mourning.” 

lie  conceives  that  a death  ought  not  to  be  lamented  whi(*h 
an  immortality  follows.  Besides  a dying  man  may  have 
some  degree  of  consciousness,  but  that  for  a short  time,  espe- 
! cially  in  the  case  of  an  old  man : after  death,  indeed,  con- 
sciousness either  does  not  exist,  or  it  is  a thing  to  be  desired. 
But  this  ought  to  be  a subject  of  study  from  our  youth  to  be 
indifferent  about  death ; without  which  study  no  one  can  be 
of  tranquil  mind.  For  die  we  certainly  must,  and  it  is 
uncertain  whether  or  not  on  this  very  day.  He,  therefore, 
who  at  all  hours  dreads  impending  death,  how  can  he  be  at 
peace  in  his  mind?  concerning  which  there  seems  to  be  no 
need  of  such  long  discussion,  when  I call  to  mind  not  only 
Lucius  Brutus,  who  was  slain  in  liberating  his  country ; nor 
the  two  Becii,  who  spurred  on  their  steeds  to  a voluntary 
death ; nor  Marcus  Atilius,'  who  set  out  to  execution,  that 
he  might  keep  a promise  pledged  to  the  enemy ; nor  the  two 

recting  his  owu  ways,  impiously  presume  to  correct  the  ways  of  God.” 
—Sen.  Ess.  107. 

To  the  same  purpose,  and  with  equal  inconsistency,  is  the  doctrine  of 
Epictetus ; on  the  one  hand  telling  those  who  complain  under  the  press- 
ure of  any  calamity  that  they  have  the  remedy  in  their  own  power,  and 
on  the  other  exhorting  them  to  bear  with  a patient  composure  of  mind 
the  evils  that  attend  human  life,  and  not  presume  to  deliver  themselves 
by  an  unwarranted  desertion  of  that  post  in  which  the  Supreme  Being 
has  thought  proper  to  place  them. 

With  the  exception  of  the  cases  of  soldiers,  suicide  was  not  forbidden 
by  the  Roman  law,  nor  was  it  discountenanced  by  public  opinion.  Vol- 
untary suicide,  by  the  law  of  England  is  a crime ; and  every  suicide  is 
presumed  to  be  voluntary  until  the  contrary  is  made  apparent.  It  is  re- 
markable, however,  that  even  English  moralists  are  by  no  means  unani- 
mous in  condemning  it ; both  Hume  and  Godwin  submit  it  to  the  test 
of  a mere  calculation  of  expediency.  The  Code  Penal  of  France  contains 
no  legislation  on  the  subject  of  suicide.  Of  the  modern  codes  of  Germany, 
some  adopt  the  silence  of  the  French  code,  and  others  vary  in  their 
particular  provisions.  In  the  Bavarian  and  Saxon  codes,  suicide  is  not 
mentioned.  The  Prussian  code  forbids  all  mutilation  of  the  dead  body 
of  a self-murderer,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  but  declares  that  it 
shall  be  buried  without  any  marks  of  respect,  otherwise  suitable  to  the 
rank  of  the  deceased. 

^ Better  knovm  to  the  English  reader  by  the  name  of  Regulus. 


CHAP.  XXI. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


53 


Scipios,  who  even  with  their  very  bodies  sought  to  obstruct 
the  march  of  the  Carthaginians  ; nor  your  grandfather  Lucius 
Paulus/  who  by  his  death  atoned  for  the  temerity  of  his 
colleague  in  the  disgraceful  defeat  at  Cannae ; nor  Marcus 
Marcellus,*  whose  corpse  not  even  the  most  merciless  foe 
suffered  to  go  without  the  honor  of  sepulcher : but  that  our 
legions,  as  I have  remarked  in  my  Antiquities,  have  often 
gone  with  cheerful  and  undaunted  mind  to  that  place  from 
which  they  believed  that  they  should  never  return.  Shall, 
then,  well-instructed  old  men  be  afraid  of  that  which  young 
men,  and  they  not  only  ignorant,  but  mere  peasants,  de- 
spise ? On  the  whole,  as  it  seemed  to  me  indeed,  a satiety  of 
ail  pursuits  causes  a satiety  of  life.  There  are  pursuits  pe- 
culiar to  boyhood  ; do  therefore  young  men  regret  the  loss  of 
them  ? There  are  also  some  of  early  youth ; does  that  now 
settled  age,  which  is  called  middle  life,  seek  after  these  ? 
There  are  also  some  of  this  period  ; neither  are  they  looked  for 
by  old  age.  There  are  some  final  pursuits  of  old  age  ; accord- 
ingly, as  the  pursuits  of  the  earlier  parts  of  life  fall  into 
disuse,  so  also  do  those  of  old  age  ; and  when  this  has  taken 
place,  satiety  of  life  brings  on  the  seasonable  period  of  death.^ 

XXL  Indeed  I do  not  see  why  I should  not  venture  to 
tell  you  what  I myself  think  concerning  death ; because  I 

^ Lucius  Paulus  fell  at  the  battle  of  Cannse,  which  was  brought  on  by 
the  rashness  of  his  colleagues,  Terentius  Yarro,  B.c.  216 : 40,000  Romans 
were  killed  in  this  battle. 

2 M.  Marcellus^  a Roman  consul  who  fought  against  Hannibal.  He 

was  killed  in  an  ambuscade,  A.u.c.  546.  * 

3 “ Confound  not  the  distinctions  of  thy  life  which  nature  hath  divided, 
that  is  youth,  adolescence,  manhood,  and  old  age ; nor,  in  these  divided 
periods,  wherein  thou  art  in  a manner  four,  conceive  thyself  but  one. 
Let  every  division  be  happy  in  its  proper  virtues,  nor  one  vice  run  through 
all.  Let  each  distinction  have  its  salutary  transition,  and  critically  de- 
liver thee  from  the  imperfections  of  the  former,  so  ordering  the  whole  that 
prudence  and  virtue  may  have  the  largest  section.  Do  as  a child,  but 
when  thou  art  a child,  and  ride  not  on  a reed  at  twenty.  He  who  hath 
not  taken  leave  of  the  follies  of  his  youth,  and  in  his  maturer  state  scarce 
got  out  of  that  division,  disproportionately  divideth  his  days,  crowds  up 
the  latter  part  of  his  life,  and  leaves  too  narrow  a corner  for  the  age  of 
wisdom,  and  so  hath  room  to  be  a man  scarce  longer  than  he  hath  been 
a youth.  Rather  than  to  make  this  confusion,  anticipate  the  virtues  of 
age,  and  live  long  without  the  infirmities  of  it.  So  mayest  thou  count 
up  thy  days,  as  some  do  Adam’s,  that  is  by  anticipation.  So  mayest 
thou  be  co-etaneous  unto  thy  elders,  and  a father  unto  thy  cotempora- 
ries,”— Sir  T.  Browne’s  “ Christian  Morals,”  part  3,  ch.  8. 


254 


CICEKO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XXI. 


fancy  I see  it  so  much  the  more  clearly,  in  proportion  as  I 
am  less  distant  from  it.  I am  persuaded  that  your  fathers, 
Publius  Scipio,  and  Caius  Laelius,  men  of  the  greatest 
eminence  and  very  dear  friends  of  mine,  are  living ; and  that 
life  too  which  alone  deserves  the  name  of  life.^  For  while 

1 In  another  of  his  writings,  “The  Tusculan  Questions,”  Cicero  thus 
expresses  himself:  “There  is,  I know  not  how,  in  minds,  a certain  pre- 
sage as  it  were,  of  a future  existence.  And  this  takes  the  deepest  root, 
and  is  most  discoverable  in  the  greatest  geniuses  and  most  exalted  minds.” 
It  was  naturally  to  be  expected  that  far  more  distinct  and  elevated  view^s 
should  be  entertained  upon  this  subject  subsequently  to  the  dawn  of  the 
Christian  dispensation,  and  it  is  most  interesting  to  observe  both  the 
resemblances  and  the  contrasts  which  obtain  between  the  views  of  Cico 
ro,  the  most  enlightened  of  heathen  advocates  for  the  soul’s  immortality, 
and  of  Christian  moralists — the  analogies  doubtless  arising  from  the 
universality  and  instinctiveness  of  the  notion,  and  the  differences  being 
readily  explained  by  the  fuller  light  shed  upon  the  subject  by  the  Chris- 
tian revelation.  "We  will  select  Addison  as  one  of  the  most  charming, 
if  not  one  of  the  most  profound  of  the  latter  school.  In  stating  the  argu- 
ments for  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  in  one  of  his  elegant  essays,  he  has 
the  following  observations: — “I  consider  these  several  proofs  drawn: 
First,  from  the  nature  of  the  soul  itself,  and  particularly  its  immateriality, 
which  though  not  absolutely  necessary  to  the  eternity  of  its  duration, 
has,  I think,  been  evinced  to  almost  a demonstration.  Secondly.  From 
its  passions  and  sentiments.  As  particularly  from  its  love  of  existence, 
its  horror  of  annihilation,  and  its  hopes  of  immortality,  with  that  secret 
satisfaction  which  it  finds  in  the  practice  of  virtue,  and  that  uneasiness 
which  follows  in  it  upon  the  commission  of  vice.  Thirdly,  From  the 
nature  of  the  Supreme  Being,  whose  justice,  wisdom,  goodness,  and 
veracity,  are  all  concerned  in  this  great  point.  But  among  these  and 
other  excellent  argumejits  for  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  there  is  one 
drawn  from  the  perpetual  progress  of  the  soul  to  its  perfection,  without 
a possibility  of  its  ever  arriving  at  it,  which  is  a hint  that  I do  not  remem- 
ber to  have  seen  opened  and  improved  by  others  who  have  written  upon 
this  subject,  though  it  seems  to  me  to  carry  a great  weight  with  it.  How 
can  it  enter  into  the  thoughts  of  man,  that  the  soul,  which  is  capable  of 
such  immense  perfections,  and  of  receiving  new  improvements  to  all 
eternity,  shall  fall  away  into  nothing  almost  as  soon  as  it  is  created  ? Aro 
such  abihties  made  for  no  purpose?  A brute  arrives  at  a point  of  per- 
fection that  he  can  never  pass  in  a few  years ; ho  has  all  the  endowments 
he  is  capable  of,  and  were  he  to  live  ten  thousand  more,  w^ould  be  the 
same  thing  ho  is  at  present.  Were  a human  soul  thus  at  a stand  in  her 
accomplishments,  wero  her  faculties  to  bo  full  blown  and  incapable  of 
further  enlargements,  I could  imagine  it  might  fall  away  insensibly,  and 
drop  at  once  into  a state  of  annihilation.  But  can  we  believe  a thinking 
being  that  is  in  a perpetual  progress  of  improvements,  and  traveling  on 
from  perfection  to  perfection,  after  having  just  looked  abroad  into  tho 
works  of  its  Creator,  and  make  a few  discoveries  of  his  infinite  goodnea.s, 


CB.A.F,  XXI. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


255 


we  are  shut  up  in  this  prison  of  the  body,  we  are  fulfilling  as 
it  were  the  function  and  painful  task  of  destiny:  for  the 
heaven-born  soul  has  been  degraded  from  its  dwelling- 
place  above,  and  as  it  were  buried  in  the  earth,  a situation 
uncongenial  to  its  divine  and  immortal  nature.  But  I believe 
that  the  immortal  gods  have  shed  souls  into  human  bodies 
that  beings  might  exist  who  might  tend  the  earth,  and  by 
contemplating  the  order  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  might  imitate 
it  in  the  manner  and  regularity  of  their  lives.^  Nor  have 
reason  and  argument  alone  influenced  me  thus  to  believe,  but 
likewise  the  high  name  and  authority  of  the  greatest  philo- 
sophers. I used  to  hear  that  Pythagoras  and  the  Pytha- 
goreans,^ who  were  all  but  our  neighbors,  who  were  formerly 
called  the  Italian  philosophers,  had  no  doubt  that  we  possess 
souls  derived  from  the  universal  divine  mind.  Moreover, 

wisdom,  and  power,  must  perish  at  her  first  setting  out,  and  in  the  be- 
ginning of  her  inquiries  ? 

“ There  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  a more  pleasing  and  triumphant  conside- 
ration in  religion  than  this,  of  the  perpetual  progress  which  the  soul 
makes  toward  the  perfection  of  its  nature,  without  ever  arriving  at  a 
period  of  it.  To  look  upon  the  soul  as  going  on  from  strength  to  strength ; 
to  consider  that  she  is  to  shine  forever,  with  new  accessions  of  glory, 
and  brighten  to  all  eternity ; that  she  will  be  still  adding  virtue  to  virtue, 
and  knowledge  to  knowledge,  carries  in  it  something  wonderfully  agree- 
able to  that  ambition  which  is  natural  to  the  mind  of  man.  Nay,  it 
must  be  a prospect  pleasing  to  God  himself,  to  see  his  creation  forever 
beautifying  in  his  eyes,  and  drawing  nearer  to  him  by  greater  degrees 
of  resemblance.” — Spectator,  No.  111. 

1 The  Pythagoreans,  according  to  Aristotle  (Eth.  Magn.  L),  were  the 
first  who  determined  any  thing  in  moral  philosophy.  Their  ethics  are  of 
the  loftiest  and  most  spiritual  description.  Virtue  was  with  them  a har- 
mony, an  unity,  and  an  endeavor  to  resemble  the  Deity.  The  whole  life 
of  man  should  be  an  attempt  to  represent  on  earth  the  beauty  and  har- 
mony displayed  in  the  order  of  the  universe.  The  mind  should  have  the 
body  and  the  passions  under  perfect  control ; the  gods  should  be  wor- 
shiped by  simple  purifications,  offerings,  and  above  all,  by  sincerity  and 
purity  of  the  heart. 

2 The  Pythagoreans  represented  the  souls  of  men  as  light  particles  of 
the  universal  soul  diffused  through  the  whole  world  (Cic.  de  Nat.  Deor. 
i.  11).  The  souls  of  the  gods  were  considered  as  proceeding  directly 
from  the  central  fire,  which  was  on  this  account  designated  “ mother  of 
the  gods,”  while  the  souls  of  men  proceeded  from  the  sun,  which  was  a 
mere  reflux  of  the  central  fire.  The  soul  of  man  was  divided  into  three 
parts,  vovc,  (ppeveq^  and  d-vpar.  The  two  former  were  considered  as  the 
rational  half  of  the  soul,  and  had  their  seat  in  the  brain.  The  last,  or 
i}vju6c,  was  the  animal  half,  and  its  seat  was  in  the  heart.  Diog.  Laert. 
viii.  19.  30.  Plut.  de  Plac.  Phil.  iv.  5. 


256 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XXI. 


the  arguments  were  conclusive  to  me,  which  Socrates  de- 
livered on  the  last  day  of  his  life  concerning  the  immortality 
of  the  soul — he  who  was  pronounced  by  the  oracle  of  Apollo 
the  wisest  of  all  men.  But  why  say  more  ? I have  thus  per- 
suaded myself,  such  is  my  belief : that  since  such  is  the 
activity  of  our  souls,  so  tenacious  their  memory  of  things 
past,  and  their  sagacity  regarding  things  future — so  many 
arts,  so  many  sciences,  so  many  discoveries,  that  the  nature 
which  comprises  these  qualities  can  not  be  mortal and  since 
the  mind  is  ever  in  action  and  has  no  source  of  motion, 
because  it  moves  itself,  I believe  that  it  never  will  find  any 
end  of  motion,  because  it  never  will  part  from  itself;  and 
that  since  the  nature  of  the  soul  is  uncompounded,  and  has 
not  in  itself  any  admixture  heterogeneous  and  dissimilar  to  it- 
self, I maintain  that  it  can  not  undergo  dissolution  ; and  if  this 
be  not  possible,  it  can  not  perish  : and  it  is  a strong  argument, 
that  men  know  very  many  things  before  they  are  born,  since 
when  mere  boys,  while  they  are  learning  difficult  subjects,  they 
so  quickly  catch  up  numberless  ideas,  that  they  seem  not  to 
be  learning  them  for  the  first  time,  but  to  remember  them,^  and 
to  be  calling  them  to  recollection.^  Thus  did  our  Plato  argue. 

1 “ The  sublime  attainments  which  man  has  been  capable  of  making 
in  science,  and  the  wonders  of  his  own  creative  art  in  that  magnificent 
scene  to  which  he  has  known  how  to  give  new  magnificence,  have  been, 
considered  by  many  as  themselves  proofs  of  the  immortality  of  a being 
so  richly  endowed.  When  we  view  him,  indeed,  comprehending  in  his 
single  conception,  the  events  of  ages  that  have  preceded  him,  and  not 
content  with  the  past,  anticipating  events  that  are  to  begin  only  in  ages 
as  remote  in  futurity  as  the  origin  of  the  universe  is  in  the  past,  measur- 
ing the  distance  of  the  remotest  planets,  and  naming  in  what  year  of 
other  centuries,  the  nations  that  are  now  gazing  with  astonishment  on 
some  comet,  are  to  gaze  on  it  in  its  return,  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  us 
to  believe  that  a mind  which  seems  equally  capacious  of  what  is  infinite 
in  space  and  time,  should  only  be  a creature  whose  brief  existence  is 
measurable  by  a few  points  of  space,  and  a few  moments  of  eternity.” — 
Brown’s  Moral  Philosophy,  lect.  xcvii. 

2 Reminisci  et  recordari.  See  Plato’s  dialogue  called  Meno,  in  which 
it  is  attempted  to  be  shown  that  all  our  knowledge  is  the  reminiscence 
of  what  has  passed  in  some  previous  state  of  existence. 

3 “ That  the  soul  had  an  existence  prior  to  her  connection  with  the 
body,  seems  to  have  been  an  opinion  of  the  highest  antiquity ; as  it  may 
be  traced  in  the  Chaldean,  Egyptian,  and  Grecian  theology,  as  far  back 
as  there  are  any  records  remaining  of  their  speculative  tenets.  This 
general  notion,  however,  was  not  maintained  universally  in  the  same 
precise  sense.  Some  considering  the  soul  in  its  former  state  as  subsist- 
ing only  in  the  great  soul  of  the  universe,  while  others  held  its  prior 


CHAP.  XXII. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


257 


XXII.  Moreover,  in  Xenophon,  Cyrus  the  elder,*  on  his 
death-bed,  discourses  thus : “ Never  imagine,  O my  dearest 
sons,  that  when  I have  departed  from  you,  I shall  exist 
nowhere,  or  cease  to  be : for  whde  I was  with  you  you 
never  saw  my  soul;  though  you  concluded  from  the  actions 
w^hich  I performed  that  it  was  in  this  body.  Believe, 
therefore,  that  it  still  exists,  though  you  will  see  nothing  of 
it.  Nor,  in  truth,  would  the  honors  of  illustrious  men  con- 
tinue after  death,  if  their  own  spirits  did  not  make  us  pre- 
serve a longer  remembrance  of  them.  I could  never,  indeed, 
be  persuaded  that  souls,  while  they  were  in  mortal  bodies, 
lived ; and  when  they  had  quitted  them,  i^erished : nor,  in 
truth,  that  the  soul  became  senseless  when  it  made  its  escape 
from  a senseless  body ; but  that  it  then  became  wise  when 
freed  from  every  corporeal  admixture,  it  had  become  pure 
and  genuine.  Besides,  when  the  constitution  of  man  is 
broken  up  by  death,  it  is  clear  whither  each  of  its  other  parts 
depart ; for  they  all  return  from  the  source  from  whence 
they  sprang : whereas,  the  soul  alone,  neither  shows  itself 
when  it  is  with  us,  nor  when  it  departs.  Further,  you  see 
there  is  nothing  so  like  death  as  sleep.  Yet  the  souls  of  per- 
sons asleep  especially  manifest  their  divine  nature ; for  when 
they  are  disengaged  and  free,  they  foresee  many  future 
events.*  From  which  w^e  conclude  in  what  state  they  will  be 

distinct  and  personal  individuality.  Those  philosophers  who  maintained 
the  latter  opinion,  at  least  the  generality  of  them,  seem  to  have  supposed 
that  the  soul  is  sent  down  into  this  sublunary  orb  as  into  a place  of  pun- 
ishment for  transgressions  committed  in  a former  state.  And  this  theory 
claims  the  greater  attention,  not  only  as  it  appears  to  have  been  adopted 
both  by  the  Pythagoric  and  Platonic  schools,  which  undoubtedly  produced 
the  most  respectable  philosophers  that  ever  enlightened  the  Pagan  world, 
but  as  bearing  strong  marks  of  being  primarily  derived  from  the  Mosaical 
account  of  the  fall  of  man.” — (Melmoth,  in  loco). 

1 CyriLS  Major.  The  character  of  this  Cyrus  is  drawn  by  Xenophon 
in  his  Cyropaedia.  He  was  king  of  Persia,  son  of  Cambyses  and  Man- 
dane,  daughter  of  Astyages,  king  of  Media.  He  dethroned  Astyages, 
and  transferred  the  Persian  empire  to  the  Medes.  The  Cyropaedia  is  not 
to  be  looked  upon  as  an  authentic  history,  but  as  showing  what  a good 
and  virtuous  prince  ought  to  be. 

2 “ There  is  surely  a nearer  apprehension  of  any  thing  that  delights  us 
in  our  dreams  than  in  our  waking  senses,  without  this  I were  unhappy, 
for  my  awakened  judgment  discontents  me,  ever  whispering  unto  me  that 
I am  from  my  friend,  but  my  friendly  dreams  in  night  requite  me  and 
make  me  think  I am  within  his  arms.  I thank  God  for  my  happy 
dreams,  as  I do  for  my  good  rest,  for  there  is  a satisfaction  in  *hem  uiita 


258 


CICERO  0^  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XXII. 


wLen  they  shall  have  altogether  released  themselves  from  the 
fetters  of  the  body.  Wherefore,  if  this  is  the  case,  regard  me 

reasonable  desires,  and  such  as  can  be  content  with  a fit  of  happiness. 
And  surely,  it  is  not  a melancholy  conceit  to  think  we  are  all  asleep  in 
this  world,  and  that  the  conceits  of  this  life  are  as  mere  dreams  to  those 
of  the  next,  as  the  phantasms  of  the  night  to  the  conceits  of  the  day. 
There  is  an  equal  delusion  in  both,  and  the  one  doth  but  seem  to  be  the 
emblem  or  picture  of  the  other ; we  are  somewhat  more  than  ourselves 
in  our  sleep,  and  the  slumber  of  the  body  seems  to  be  but  the  waking 
of  the  souL  It  is  the  ligation  of  sense,  but  the  liberty  of  reason,  and 
our  awakening  conceptions  do  not  match  the  fancies  of  our  sleeps.  I am 
in  no  way  facetious,  not  disposed  for  the  mirth  and  galliardize  of  com- 
pany, yet  in  one  dream  I can  compose  a whole  comedy,  behold  the  ac- 
tion, apprehend  the  jests,  and  laugh  myself  awake  at  the  conceits  thereof. 
Were  my  memory  as  faithful  as  my  reason  is  then  fruitful,  I could  never 
study  but  in  my  dreams,  and  this  time  also  would  I choose  for  my  devo- 
tions ; but  our  grosser  memories  have  then  so  little  hold  of  our  abstracted 
understandings  that  they  forget  the  story,  and  can  only  relate  to  our 
awakened  souls,  a confused  and  broken  tale  of  that  that  hath  passed. 
Aristotle,  who  hath  written  a singular  tract  on  sleep,  hath  not,  methinks, 
thoroughly  defined  it ; nor  yet  Galen,  though  he  seem  to  have  corrected 
it ; for  those  noctambuloes  and  night-walkers,  though  in  their  sleep,  do 
yet  enjoy  the  action  of  their  senses,  we  must  therefore  say  that  there  is 
something  in  us  that  is  not  in  the  jurisdiction  of  Morpheus,  and  that 
those  abstracted  and  ecstatic  souls  do  walk  about  in  their  own  corps,  as 
spirits  with  the  bodies  they  assume  wherein  they  seem  to  hear,  see,  and 
feel,  though  indeed,  the  organs  are  destitute  of  sense,  and  their  natures 
of  those  faculties  that  should  inform  them.  Thus  it  is  observed  that  men 
sometimes  upon  the  hour  of  their  departure,  do  speak  and  reason  above 
themselves ; for  then  the  soul,  beginning  to  be  freed  from  the  ligaments 
of  the  body,  begins  to  reason  like  herself,  and  to  discourse  in  a strain  above 
mortality.” — Sir  Thomas  Browne’s  Religio  Medici,  part  ii.  chap.  11. 

“ Dreams,’'  says  Addison,  “ are  an  instance  of  that  agility  and  perfection 
which  is  natural  to  the  faculties  of  the  mind  when  they  are  disengaged 
from  the  body.  The  soul  is  clogged  and  retarded  in  her  operations  when 
she  acts  in  conjunction  with  a companion,  that  is  so  heavy  and  unwieldy 
in  its  motion.  But  in  dreams  it  is  wonderful  to  observe  with  what  a 
sprightliness  and  alacrity  she  exerts  herself.  The  slow  of  speech  make 
unpremeditated  harangues,  or  converse  readily  in  languages  that  they  are 
but  httle  acquainted  with.  The  grave  abound  in  pleasantries,  the  dull 
in  repartees  and  points  of  wit.  There  is  not  a more  painful  action  of  the 
mind  than  invention,  yet  in  dreams  it  works  with  that  ease  and  activity 
that  we  are  not  sensible  of  when  the  faculty  is  employed.  For  instance, 
I believe  every  one  some  time  or  other  dreams  that  he  is  reading  papers, 
books,  or  letters,  in  which  case  the  invention  prompts  so  readily  chat  the 
mind  is  imposed  upon,  and  mistakes  its  own  suggestions  for  the  compo- 
sitions of  another.  I must  not  omit  that  argument  for  the  excellency  of 
the  soul  which  I have  seen  quoted  out  of  Tertullian,  namely,  its  power 
of  divining  in  dreams.  That  several  such  divinitions  have  been  made, 
none  can  question  who  believes  the  holy  writings,  or  who  has  but  the 


CHAP.  xxni. 


OICERO  OK'  OLD  AGE. 


259 


as  a god,  but  if  tbe  soul  is  destined  to  perish  along  with  the  body, 
yet  you,  reverencing  the  gods,  who  oversee  and  control  all  this 
beautiful  system,  will  affectionately  and  sacredly  preserve  my 
memory.”  Such  were  the  dying  words  of  Cyrus. 

XXIII.  Let  me,  if  you  please,  revert  to  my  own  views. 
Xo  one  will  ever  persuade  me  that  either  your  father,  Paulus, 
or  two  gandfathers,  Paulus  and  Africanus,  or  the  father  of 
Africanus,  or  his  uncle,  or  the  many  distinguished  men  whom 
it  is  unnecessary  to  recount,  aimed  at  such  great  exploits  as 
might  reach  to  the  recollection  of  posterity,  had  they  not 
perceived  in  their  mind  that  posterity  belonged  to  them.  Do 
you  suppose,  to  boast  a little  of  myself,  after  the  manner  of 
old  men,  that  I should  have  undergone  such  great  toils, 
by  day  and  night,  at  home  and  in  service,  had  I thought  to 
limit  my  glory  by  the  same  bounds  as  my  life  ? Would  it  not 
have  been  far  better  to  pass  an  easy  and  quiet  life  without 
any  toil  or  struggle  ? But  I know  not  how  my  soul,  stretch- 
ing upward,  has  ever  looked  forward  to  posterity,  as  if,  when 
it  had  departed  from  life,  then  at  last  it  would  begin  to  live.^ 

least  degree  of  a common  historical  faith ; there  being  innumerable  in- 
stances of  this  nature  in  several  authors,  both  ancient  and  modern, 
sacred  and  profane.  Whether  such  dark  presages,  such  visions  of  the 
night,  proceed  from  any  latent  power  in  the  soul,  during  this  her  state 
of  abstraction,  or  from  any  communication  with  the  Supreme  Being,  or 
from  any  operation  of  subordinate  spirits  has  been  a great  dispute  among 
the  learned.  The  matter  of  fact  is,  I think,  incontestible,  and  has  been 
looked  upon  as  such  by  the  greatest  writers  who  have  been  never  sus- 
pected either  of  superstition  or  enthusiasm.  I do  not  suppose  that  the 
soul  in  these  instances  is  entirely  loose  and  unfettered  from  the  body:  it 
is  sufficient  if  she  is  not  so  far  sunk  and  immersed  in  matter,  nor  en- 
tangled and  perplexed  in  her  operations  with  such  motions  of  blood  and 
spirits,  as  when  she  actuates  the  machine  in  its  waking  hours.  The 
corporeal  union  is  slackened  enough  to  give  the  mind  more  play.  The 
soul  seems  gathered  within  herself,  and  recovers  that  spring  which  is 
broken  and  weakened  when  she  operates  more  in  concert  with  the  body.” 
— Spectator,  No.  48Y. 

1 Dr.  Thomas  Brown  attaches  no  value  to  the  argument  for  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul,  derived  from  the  aspiration  after  it  which  is  com- 
mon to  all.  “I  am  aware,”  he  says,  “ that  in  judging  from  the  mind  it- 
self a considerable  stress  has  often  been  laid  on  the  existence  of  feelings 
which  admit  of  a very  easy  solution,  without  the  necessity  of  ascribing 
them  to  any  instinctive  foreknowledge  of  a state  of  immortal  being. 
Of  this  sort  particularly  seems  to  me  an  argument  which,  both  in  ancient 
and  modern  times,  has  been  brought  forward  as  one  of  the  most  power- 
ful arguments  for  our  continued  existence,  after  life  has  seemed  to  close 
upon  U2  forever.  I allude  to  the  universal  desire  of  this  immortal  exist- 


260 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  XXIIL 


And,  indeed,  unless  this  were  the  case,  that  souls  were  im- 
mortal, the  souls  of  the  noblest  of  men  would  not  aspire 
above  all  things  to  an  immortality  of  glory.*  Why  need  I 

ence.  But  surely,  if  life  itself  he  pleasing,  and  even  though  there  were 
no  existence  beyond  the  grave — life  might  be  still,  by  the  benevolence 
of  Him  who  conferred  it,  have  been  rendered  a source  of  pleasure ; it  is 
not  wonderful  that  we  should  desire  futurity,  since  futurity  is  only  pro- 
tracted life.  It  would,  indeed,  have  been  worthy  of  our  astonishment  it 
man,  loving  his  present  life,  and  knowing  that  it  was  to  terminate  in  the 
space  of  a very  few  years,  should  not  have  regretted  the  termination  of 
what  he  loved ; that  is  to  say,  should  not  have  wished  the  continuance 
of  it  beyond  the  period  of  its  melancholy  close.  The  universal  desire 
then,  even  if  the  desire  were  truly  universal,  would  prove  nothing,  but 
the  goodness  of  Him  who  has  made  the  realities  of  life— or  if  not  the 
realities,  the  hopes  of  life — so  pleasing  that  the  mere  loss  of  what  is 
possessed,  or  hoped,  appears  like  a positive  evil  of  the  most  afflicting 
kind.” — Dr.  Brown’s  Moral  Philosophy,  sec.  9Y. 

* “I  am  fully  persuaded  that  one  of  the  best  springs  of  generous  and 
worthy  actions  is  having  generous  and  worthy  thoughts  of  ourselves. 
Whoever  has  a mean  opinion  of  the  dignity  of  his  nature  will  act  in  no 
higher  a rank  than  he  has  allotted  himself  in  his  own  estimation  If  he 
considers  his  being  as  circumscribed  by  the  uncertain  term  of  a few 
years,  his  designs  will  be  contracted  into  the  same  narrow  space  he 
imagines  is  to  bound  his  existence.  How  can  he  exalt  his  thoughts  to 
any  thing  great  and  noble,  who  only  believes  that  after  a short  turn  on 
the  stage  of  this  world,  he  is  to  sink  into  oblivion,  and  to  lose  his  con- 
sciousness forever  ? For  this  reason  I am  of  opinion  that  so  useful  and 
elevated  a contemplation  as  that  of  the  soul’s  immortality  can  not  be  re- 
sumed too  often.  There  is  not  a more  improving  exercise  to  the  human 
mind  than  to  be  frequently  reviewing  its  own  great  privileges  and  en- 
dowments, nor  a more  effectual  means  to  awaken  in  us  an  ambition 
raised  above  low  objects  and  little  pursuits,  than  to  value  ourselves  as 
heirs  of  eternity.” — Hughes.  Spectator,  No.  210. 

Upon  the  love  of  posthumous  fame.  Dr.  Johnson  has  the  following 
observations : “ If  the  love  of  fame  is  so  far  indulged  by  the  mind  as  to 
become  independent  and  predominant ; it  is  dangerous  and  irregular, 
but  it  may  be  usefully  employed  as  an  inferior  and  secondary  motive, 
and  will  serve  sometimes  to  revive  our  activity,  when  we  begir  to  lan- 
guish and  lose  sight  of  that  more  certain,  more  valuable,  and  more  dur- 
able reward,  which  ought  always  to  be  our  first  hope  and  our  lastc  But 
it  must  be  strongly  impressed  upon  our  minds  that  virtue  is  not  to  bo 
pursued  as  one  of  the  means  to  fame ; but  fame  to  be  accepted  as  the 
only  recompense  which  mortals  can  bestow  on  virtue,  to  be  accepted 
with  complacence,  but  not  sought  with  eagerness  Simply  to  be  remem- 
bered is  no  advantage ; it  is  a privilege  which  satire  as  well  as  panegyric 
can  confer,  and  is  not  more  enjoyed  by  Titus  or  Constantine  than  by  Ti- 
mocrean'of  Rhodes,  of  whom  we  only  know  from  his  epitaph,  that  he 
had  eaten  many  a meal,  drank  many  a flagon,  and  uttered  many  a re- 
proach. The  true  satisfaction  which  is  to  be  drawn  from  the  conscious 
nesp  that  wo  shall  share  the  attention  of  future  times  must  arise  from  the 


CHAP.  XXIII. 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


261 


adduce  that  the  wisest  man  ever  dies  with  the  greatest  equa- 
nimity, the  most  foolish  with  the  least  ? Does  it  not  seem  to 
you  that  the  soul,  which  sees  more  and  further,  sees  that  it 
is  passing  to  a better  state,  while  that  body,  whose  vision  is 
duller,  does  not  see  it  ? I,  indeed,  am  transported  with  eager- 
ness to  see  your  fathers,  whom  I have  respected  and  loved : 
nor  in  truth  is  it  those  only  I desire  to  meet  whom  I myself 

have  known ; but  those  also  of  whom  I have  heard  or  read, 

and  have  myself  written.  Whither,  indeed,  as  I proceed,  no 
one  assuredly  should  easily  force  me  back,  nor,  as  they  did 
with  Pelias,  cook  me  again  to  youth.  For  if  any  god  should 
grant  me,  that  from  this  period  of  life  I should  become  a 
child  again  and  cry  in  the  cradle,  I should  earnestly  refuse 
it:^  nor  in  truth  should  I like,  after  having  run,  as  it  were, 
my  course,  to  be  called  back  to  the  starting-place^  from  the 
goal.  For  what  comfort  has  life  ? What  trouble  has  it  not, 
rather?  But  grant  that  it  has;  yet  it  assuredly  has  either 
satiety  or  limitation  (of  its  pleasures).  For  I am  not  dis- 
posed to  lament  the  loss  of  life,  which  many  men,  and  those 
learned  men  too,  have  often  done  ; neither  do  I regret  that  I 
have  lived  since  I have  lived  in  such  a way  that  I con- 
ceive I was  not  born  in  vain : and  from  this  life  I depart  as 
from  a temporary  lodging,  not  as  from  a home.  For  nature 
has  assigned  it  to  us  as  an  inn  to  sojourn  in,  not  a place  of 

habitation.  Oh,  glorious  day ! when  I shall  depart  to  that 

divine  company  and  assemblage  of  spirits,  and  quit  this 
troubled  and  polluted  scene.  For  I shall  go  not  only  to  those 
great  men  of  whom  I have  spoken  before,  but  also  to  my 
hope  that  with  our  name  our  virtues  will  be  propagated,  and  that  those 
whom  we  can  not  benefit  in  our  lives,  may  receive  instruction  from  our 
examples  and  incitement  from  our  renown.” — Rambler,  No.  49. 

1 “ Though  I think  no  man  could  live  well  once,  but  he  that  could  live 
twice,  yet,  for  my  own  part  I would  not  live  over  my  hours  past,  or  begin 
again  the  thread  of  my  days  ; not  upon  Cicero’s  ground,  because  I have 
lived  them  well,  but  for  fear  I should  live  them  worse.  I find  my  grow- 
ing judgment  daily  instruct  me  how  to  be  better,  but  my  untamed  aflec- 
tions  and  confirmed  vitiosity  make  me  daily  do  worse.  I find  in  my 
confirmed  age  the  same  sins  I discovered  in  my  youth ; I committed 
many  then,  because  I was  a child ; and  because  I commit  them  still,  I am 
yet  an  infant ; therefore  I perceive  a man  may  be  twice  a child  before 
the  days  of  dotage,  and  stand  in  need  of  Eson’s  bath  before  threescore.” 
— Sir  Thomas  Browne’s  Religio  Medici,  ch.  42. 

2 Ad  carceres  a calce:  carceres  or  repagula^  from  which  the  horses 
started.  A line  called  creta  or  calx  was  drawn,  to  mark  the  end  of  the 
course. 


262 


CICERO  ON  OLD  AGE. 


CHAP.  xxm. 


friend  Cato/  than  whom  never  was  better  man  born,  nor 
more  distinguished  for  pious  affection ; whose  body  was 
burned  by  me,  whereas,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  fitting  that 
mine  should  be  burned  by  him.  But  his  soul  not  deserting 
me,  but  oft  looking  back,  no  doubt  departed  to  those  regions 
whither  it  saw  that  I myself  was  destined  to  come.  Which, 
though  a distress  to  me,  I seemed  patiently  to  endure  : not  that 
I bore  it  with  indifference,  but  I comforted  myself  with  the 
recollection  that  the  separation  and  distance  between  us  would 
not  continue  long.  For  these  reasons,  O Scipio  (since  you 
said  that  you  with  Lselius  were  accustomed  to  wonder  at  this), 
old  age  is  tolerable  to  me,  and  not  only  not  irksome,  but  even 
delightful.  And  if  I am  wrong  in  this,  that  I believe  the 
souls  of  men  to  be  immortal,  I willingly  delude  myself : nor 
do  I desire  that  this  mistake,  in  which  I take  pleasure,  should 
be  wrested  from  me  as  long  as  I live ; but  if  I,  when  dead, 
shall  have  no  consciousness,  as  some  narrow-minded  philoso- 
phers imagine,  I do  not  fear  lest  dead  philosophers  should  ridi- 
cule this  my  delusion.  But  if  we  are  not  destined  to  be  immor- 
tal, yet  it  is  a desirable  thing  for  a man  to  expire  at  his  fit  time. 
For,  as  nature  prescribes  a boundary  to  all  other  things,  so  doe? 
she  also  to  life.  Now  old  age  is  the  consummation  of  life,  just 
as  of  a play  ; from  the  fatigue  of  which  we  ought  to  escape,  es- 
pecially when  satiety  is  superadded.  This  is  w^hat  I had  to  say 
on  the  subject  of  old  age ; to  which  may  you  arrive ! that,  after 
having  experienced  the  truth  of  those  statements  which  you 
have  heard  from  me,  you  may  be  enabled  to  give  them  your  ap- 
probation. 

^ This  apostrophe  has  suggested  to  the  greatest  of  modern  pulpit  ora- 
tors one  of  his  most  eloquent  perorations.  “If,”  says  Robert  Hall,  “ the 
mere  conception  of  the  reunion  of  good  men  in  a future  state  infused  a 
momentary  rapture  into  the  mind  of  Tully;  if  an  airy  speculation,  for 
there  is  reason  to  fear  it  had  little  hold  on  his  convictions,  could  inspire 
him  with  such  delight,  what  may  we  be  expected  to  feel  who  are  assured 
of  such  an  event  by  the  true  sayings  of  God  I How  should  we  rejoice  in 
the  prospect — the  certainty,  rather,  of  spending  a blissful  eternity  with 
those  whom  we  loved  on  earth ; of  seeing  them  emerge  from  the  ruins 
of  the  tomb,  and  the  deeper  ruins  of  the  fall,  not  only  uninjured,  but 
refined  and  perfected.  What  delight  will  it  afford  to  renew  the  sweet 
counsel  we  have  taken  together,  to  recount  the  toils  of  combat  and  the 
labor  of  the  way,  and  to  approach  not  the  house  but  the  throne  of  God 
in  company,  in  order  to  join  in  the  symphony  of  heavenly  voices,  and 
lose  ourselves  amid  the  splendors  and  fruitions  of  the  beatific  vision.” — 
Euneral  Sermon  for  Dr.  Ryland. 


PARADOXES. 


ADDRESSED  TO  MARCUS  BRUTUS. 

I.  HAVE  often  observed,  0 Brutus,  that  your  uncU 
Cato,  when  he  delivered  his  opinion  in  the  senate,  was 
accustomed  to  handle  important  points  of  philosophy,  in- 
consistent with  popular  and  forensic  usage;  but  that  yet, 
in  speaking,  he  managed  them  so  that  even  these  seemed 
to  the  people  worthy  of  approbation ; which  was  so 
much  the  greater  excellency  in  him,  than  either  in  you  or 
in  me,  because  we  are  more  conversant  in  that  philosophy 
which  has  produced  a copiousness  of  expression,  and  in 
which  those  things  are  propounded  which  do  not  widely 
diflfer  from  the  popular  opinion.  But  Cato,  in  my  opinion  a 
complete  Stoic,  both  holds  those  notions  which  certainly  do 
not  approve  themselves  to  the  common  people ; and  belongs 
to  that  sect  which  aims  at  no  embellishments,  and  does  not 
spin  out  an  argument.  He  therefore  succeeds  in  what  he 
has  purposed,  by  certain  pithy  and,  as  it  were,  stimulating 
questions.  There  is,  however,  nothing  so  incredible  that  it 
may  not  be  made  plausible  by  eloquence  ; nothing  so  rough 
and  uncultivated  that  it  may  not,  in  oratory,  become  brilliant 
and  polished. 

As  I have  been  accustomed  to  think  thus,  I have  made  a 
bolder  attempt  than  he  himself  did  of  whom  I am  speaking. 
For  Cato  is  accustomed  to  treat  stoically  of  magnanimity,  of 
modesty,  of  death,  and  of  all  the  glory  of  virtue,  of  the  im- 
mortal gods,  and  of  patriotism,  with  the  addition  of  the  orna- 
ments of  eloquence.  But  I have,  for  amusement,  digested 
into  common-places  those  topics  which  the  Stoics  scarcely 
prove  in  their  retirement  and  in  their  schools.  Such 
topics  are  termed,  even  by  themselves,  paradoxes,  be- 
cause they  are  remarkable,  and  contrary  to  the  opinion  of 
all  men.  I have  been  desirous  of  trying  whether  they 
might  not  come  into  publicity,  that  is  before  the  forum,  and 
bo  so  expressed  as  to  be  anproved;  or  whether  learned 


264 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  1. 


expressions  were  one  thing,  and  a popular  mode  of  address 
another.  I undertook  this  with  the  more  pleasure,  because 
these  very  paradoxes,  as  they  are  termed,  appear  to  me  to 
be  the  most  Socratic,  and  by  far  the  most  true.  Accept 
therefore  this  little  work,  composed  during  these  shorter 
nights,  since  that  work  of  my  longer  watchings  appeared  in 
your  name.  You  will  have  here  a specimen  of  the  manner 
I have  been  accustomed  to  adopt  when  I accommodate  those 
things  which  in  the  schools  are  termed  theses  to  our  oratorical 
manner  of  speaking.  I do  not,  however,  expect  that  you 
will  look  upon  yourself  as  indebted  to  me  for  this  perform- 
ance which  is  not  such  as  to  be  placed,  like  the  Minerva  of 
Phidias,  in  a citadel,  but  still  such  as  may  aj)pear  to  have 
issued  from  the  same  studio. 

PARADOX  I. 

THAT  VIRTUE  IS  THE  ONLY  GOOD. 

I AM  apprehensive  that  this  position  may  seem  to  some 
among  you  to  have  been  derived  from  the  schools  of  the 
Stoics,^  and  not  from  my  own  sentiments.  Yet  I will  tell 
you  my  real  opinion,  and  that  too  more  briefly  than  so  im- 
portant a matter  requires  to  be  discussed.  By  Hercules,  I 
never  was  one  who  reckoned  among  good  and  desirable 

1 The  ethical  doctrines  of  the  Stoics  have  attracted  most  attention,  as 
exhibited  in  the  lives  of  distinguished  Greeks  and  Romans.  To  live 
according  to  nature  was  the  basis  of  their  ethical  system ; but  by  this  it 
was  not  meant  that  a man  should  follow  his  own  particular  nature ; ho 
must  make  his  life  conformable  to  the  nature  of  the  whole  of  things. 
This  principle  is  the  foundation  of  all  morality;  and  it  follows  that 
morality  is  connected  with  philosophy.  To  know  what  is  our  relation 
to  the  whole  of  things,  is  to  know  what  we  ought  to  be  and  to  do.  This 
fundamental  principle  of  the  Stoics  is  indisputable,  but  its  application  is 
not  always  easy,  nor  did  they  all  agree  in  their  exposition  of  it.  Soro#^ 
things  were  good,  some  bad,  and  some  indifferent ; the  only  good  things 
were  virtue,  wisdom,  justice,  temperance,  and  the  like.  The  truly  wise 
man  possesses  all  knowledge ; he  is  perfect  and  sufficient  in  himself ; ho 
despises  all  that  subjects  to  its  power  the  rest  of  mankind  ; he  feels  pain, 
but  he  is  not  conquered  by  it.  But  the  morality  of  the  Stoics,  at  least 
in  the  later  periods,  though  it  rested  on  a basis  apparently  so  sound, 
permitted  the  wise  man  to  do  nearly  every  thing  that  he  liked.  Such  a 
system,  it  has  been  well  observed,  might  do  for  the  imaginary  wise  man 
of  the  Stoics ; but  it  was  not  a system  whose  general  adoption  was  com- 
patible with  the  existence  of  any  actual  society. 


PAR,  I. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


265 


tilings,  treasures,  magnificent  mansions,  interest,  power,  oi 
those  pleasures  to  which  mankind  are  most  chiefly  addicted. 
For  I have  observed,  that  those  to  whom  these  things 
abounded,  still  desired  them  most : for  the  thirst  of  cupidity 
is  never  filled  or  satiated.  They  are  tormented  not  only 
with  the  lust  of  increasing,  hut  with  the  fear  of  losing  what 
they  have.  I own  that  I often  look  in  vain  for  the  good 
sense  of  our  ancestors,  those  most  continent  men,  who 
afiixed  the  appellation  of  good  to  those  weak,  fleeting,  cir- 
cumstances of  wealth,  when  in  truth  and  fact  their  senti- 
ments were  the  very  reverse.^  Can  any  bad  man  enjoy  a 
good  thing?  Or,  is  it  possible  for  a man  not  to  be  good, 
when  he  lives  in  the  very  abundance  of  good  things  ? 
And  yet  we  see  all  those  things  so  distributed  that 
wicked  men  possess  them,  and  that  they  are  inauspicious 
to  the  good.  Now  let  any  man  indulge  his  raillery,  if  ho 
jilease ; but  right  reason  will  ever  have  more  weight  with 
me  . than  the  opinion  of  the  multitude.  Nor  shall  I ever 
account  a man,  when  he  has  lost  his  stock  of  cattle,  or 
furniture,  to  have  lost  his  good  things.  Nor  shall  I seldom 
speak  in  praise  of  Bias,  who,  if  I mistake  not,  is  reckoned 
among  the  seven  wise  men.  For  when  the  enemy  took  pos- 
session of  Priene,  his  native  country,  and  when  the  rest  so 
managed  their  flight  as  to  carry  off  with  them  their  eftects, 
on  his  being  recommended  by  a certain  person  to  do  the 
same,  “ Why,”  answered  he,  ‘‘  I do  so,  for  I carry  with  me 
all  my  possessions.”  He  did  not  so  much  as  esteem  those 
playthings  of  fortune,  which  we  even  term  our  blessings,  to 
be  his  own.^  But  some  one  will  ask.  What  then  is  a real 
good  ? Whatever  is  done  uprightly,  honestly,  and  virtuously, 
is  truly  said  to  be  done  well ; and  whatever  is  upright,  honest, 
and  agreeable  to  virtue,  that  alone,  as  I think,  is  a good  thing. 

But  these  matters,  when  they  are  more  loosely  discussed, 

^ “ I can  not  call  riches  better  than  the  baggage  of  virtue ; the  Roman 
word  is  better,  “impedimenta;”  for  as  the  baggage  is  to  an  army,  so  is 
riches  to  virtue,  it  can  not  be  spared  nor  left  behind,  but  it  hindereth  the 
march ; yea,  and  the  care  of  it  sometimes  loseth  or  disturbeth  the  vic- 
tory ; of  great  riches  there  is  no  real  use,  except  it  be  in  the  distribu- 
tion ; the  rest  is  but  conceit.” — Lord  Bacon,  Essay  34. 

2 Ovid  expresses  the  same  idea  in  the  following  passage : 

“Et  genus  et  proavos  et  quae  non  fecimus  ipsi 
Vix  ea  nostra  voco,” 

12 


266 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  I 


appear  somewhat  obscure ; but  those  things  which  seemed 
to  be  discussed  wdth  more  subtlety  than  is  necessary  in 
words,  may  be  illustrated  by  the  lives  and  actions  of  the 
greatest  of  men.  I ask  then  of  you,  whether  the  men  who 
left  to  us  this  empire,  founded  upon  so  noble  a system, 
seem  ever  to  have  thought  of  gratifying  avarice  by  money  ; 
delight  by  delicacy ; luxury  by  magnificence ; or  pleasure 
by  feasting?  ^ Set  before  your  eyes  any  one  of  our  monarchs, 
Shall  I begin  with  Romulus?  Or,  after  the  state  was  free, 
with  those  who  liberated  it?  By  what  steps  then  did 
Romulus  ascend  to  heaven  ? By  those  which  these  people 
term  good  things?  Or  by  his  exploits  and  his  virtues? 
What ! are  we  to  imagine,  that  the  wooden  or  earthen  dishes 
of  Numa  Polnpilius  were  less  acceptable  to  the  immortal 
gods,  than  the  embossed  plate  of  others?  I pass  over  our 
other  kings,  for  all  of  them,  excepting  Tarquin  the  Proud, 
were  equally  excellent.  Should  any  one  ask.  What  did 
Brutus  perform  when  he  delivered  his  country  ? Or,  as 
to  those  who  were  the  participators  of  that  design,  what  was 
their  aim,  and  the  object  of  their  pursuit  ? Lives  there  the 
man  who  can  regard  as  their  object,  riches,  pleasure,  or  any 
thing  else  than  acting  the  part  of  a great  and  gallant  man  ? 
What  motive  impelled  Gains  Mucius,  without  the  least  hope 
of  preservation,  to  attempt  the  death  of  Porsenna?  What 
impulse  kept  Codes  to  the  bridge,  singly  opposed  to  the 
whole  force  of  the  enemy  ? What  power  devoted  the  elder 
and  the  younger  Decius,  and  impelled  them  against  armed 
battalions  of  enemies  ? What  was  the  object  of  the  continence 
of  Gains  Fabricius,  or  of  the  frugality  of  life  of  Manius 
Curius  ? What  were  the  motives  of  those  two  thunderbolts 
of  the  Punic*  war,  Publius  and  Cneius  Scipio,  when  they 
proposed  with  their  own  bodies  to  intercept  the  progress  ol‘ 

1 Horace  develops  the  same  thought  In  commending  decision  of 
character,  he  writes ; 

Hac  arte  Pollux  et  vagus  Hercules 
Enisus  arces  attigit  igneas : 

Quos  inter  Augustus  recumbens 
Purpureo  bibit  ore  nectar. 

Hac  te  merentem,  Bacche  pater,  tuae 
Yexere  tigres  indocili  jugum 
Collo  trahentes : hac  Quirinus 
Martis  equis  Acheronta  fugit. — Carm.  lib.  iii.  carm.  3 


PAR.  r. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


267 


tlie  Carthaginians  ? What  did  the  elder,  what  did  the  younger 
Africanus  propose  ? What  were  the  views  of  Cato,  who  lived 
between  the  times  of  both  ? What  shall  I say  of  innumerable 
other  instances ; for  we  abound  in  examples  drawn  from  our 
own  history ; can  we  think  that  they  proposed  any  other 
object  in  life  but  what  seemed  glorious  and  noble  ? 

Now  let  the  deriders  of  this  sentiment  and  principle  come 
forward ; let  even  them  take  their  choice,  whether  they  would 
rather  resemble  the  man  who  is  rich  in  marble  palaces,  adorned 
with  ivory,  and  shining  with  gold,  in  statues,  in  pictures,  in 
embossed  gold  and  silver  plate,  in  the  workmanship  of  Corin- 
thian brass,  or  if  they  will  resemble  Fabricius,  who  had,  and 
who  wished  to  have,  none  of  these  things.  And  yet  they  are 
readily  prevailed  upon  to  admit  that  those  things  which  are 
transferred,  now  hither,  now  thither,  are  not  to  he  ranked 
among  good  things,  while  at  the  same  time  they  strongly 
maintain,  and  eagerly  disj)ute,  that  pleasure  is  the  highest 
good;  a sentiment  that  to  me  seems  to  be  that  of  a brute, 
rather  than  that  of  a man.^  Shall  you,  endowed  as  you  are 

* That  pleasure  is  man’s  cliiefest  good  (because  indeed  it  is  the  per- 
ception of  good  that  is  properly  pleasure),  is  an  assertion  most  certainly 
true,  though  under  the  common  acceptance  of  it  not  only  false  but  odious : 
for,  according  to  this,  pleasure  and  sensuality  pass  for  terms  equivalent  ; 
and  therefore  he  that  takes  it  in  this  sense  alters  the  subject  of  the  dis- 
course. Sensuality  is  indeed  a part,  or  rather  one  kind  of  pleasure,  such 
an  one  as  it  is ; for  pleasure  in  general  is  the  consequent  apprehension 
of  a suitable  object,  suitably  applied  to  a rightly  disposed  faculty ; and 
so  must  be  conversant  both  about  the  faculties  of  the  body  and  of  the 
soul  respectively ; as  being  the  result  of  the  functions  belonging  to  both. 

“ Since  God  never  created  any  faculty  either  in  soul  or  body,  but 
withal  prepared  for  it  a suitable  object,  and  that  in  order  to  its  gratifica- 
tion ; can  we  think  that  religion  was  designed  only  for  a contradiction 
to  nature?  And,  with  the  greatest  and  most  irrational  tyranny  in  the 
world,  to  tantalize  and  tie  men  up  from  enjoyment,  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  opportunies  of  enjoyment  ? To  place  men  with  the  furious  affections 
of  hunger  and  thirst  in  the  very  bosom  of  plenty,  and  then  to  tell  them 
that  the  envy  of  Providence  has  sealed  up  every  thing  that  is  suitable 
under  the  character  of  unlawful  ? For  certainly,  first  to  frame  appetites 
fit  to  receive  pleasure,  and  then  to  interdict  them  with  a ‘ touch  not, 
taste  not,’  can  be  nothing  else  than  only  to  give  them  occasion  to  devour 
and  prey  upon  themselves,  and  so  to  keep  men  under  the  perpetual  tor- 
ment of  an  unsatisfied  desire ; a thing  hugely  contrary  to  the  natural 
felicity  of  the  creature,  and  consequently  to  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
of  the  great  Creator.  There  is  no  doubt  but  a man,  while  he  resigns 
himself  up  to  the  brutish  guidance  of  sense  and  appetite,  has  no  relish 


268 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  I. 


hj  God  or  by  nature,  wbona  we  may  term  the  mother  of  all 
things,  with  a soul  (than  which  there  exists  nothing  more 
excellent  and  more  divine),  so  degrade  and  prostrate  yourself 
as  to  think  there  is  no  difference  between  yourself  and  any 
quadruped  ? Is  there  any  real  good  that  does  not  make  him 
who  possesses  it  a better  man  ? For  in  proportion  as  every 
man  has  the  greatest  amount  of  excellence,  he  is  also  in  that 
proportion  most  praiseworthy;  nor  is  there  any  excellence 
on  which  the  man  who  possesses  it  may  not  justly  value 
himself.  But  what  of  these  qualities  resides  in  pleasure  ? 
Does  it  make  a man  better,  or  more  praiseworthy  ? Does 
any  man  extol  himself  in  boasting  ^ or  self-recommendation 
for  having  enjoyed  pleasures  ? Now  if  pleasure,  which  is 
defended  by  the  advocacy  of  many,  is  not  to  be  ranked 
among  good  things,  and  if  the  greater  it  is  the  more  it 
dislodges  the  mind  from  its  habitual  and  settled  position  ; ^ 
surely  to  live  well  and  happily,  is  nothing  else  than  to  live 
virtuously  and  rightly.^ 

at  all  for  the  spiritual,  refined  delights  of  a soul  clarified  by  grace  and 
virtue.  The  pleasures  of  an  angel  can  never  be  the  pleasures  of  a hog. 
But  this  is  the  thing  that  we  contend  for,  that  a man,  having  once  ad- 
vanced himself  to  a state  of  superiority  over  the  control  of  his  inferior  ap- 
petites, finds  an  infinitely  more  solid  and  sublime  pleasure  in  the  delights 
proper  to  his  reason,  than  the  same  person  had  ever  conveyed  to  him  by 
the  bare  ministry  of  his  senses.” — South’s  Sermons,  vol.  i.  sermon  1. 

^ “ All  pleasures  that  affect  the  body  must  needs  weary,  because  they 
transport ; and  all  transportation  is  a violence,  and  no  violence  can  be 
lasting,  but  determines  upon  the  falling  of  the  spirits,  which  are  not  able 
to  keep  up  that  height  of  motion  that  the  pleasures  of  the  senses  raise 
them  to ; and  therefore,  how  inevitably  does  an  immoderate  laughter 
end  in  a sigh  ? which  is  only  nature’s  recovering  itself  after  a force  done 
to  it.  But  the  religious  pleasure  of  a well-disposed  mind  moves  gently, 
and  therefore  constantly ; it  does  not  affect  by  rapture  and  ecstasy  ; but 
is  like  the  pleasure  of  health,  which  is  still  and  sober,  yet  greater  and 
stronger  than  those  that  call  up  the  senses  with  grosser  and  more  affect- 
ing impressions.  God  has  given  no  man  a body  as  strong  as  his  appe- 
tites ; but  has  corrected  the  boundlessness  of  his  voluptuous  desires  by 
stinting  his  strength  and  contracting  his  capacities.” — Ibid. 

^ And  now,  upon  the  result  of  all,  I suppose  that  to  exhort  men  to 
be  religious  is  only  in  other  words  to  exhort  them  to  take  their  pleasure. 
A pleasure  high,  rational,  and  angelical ; a pleasure,  embased  with  no 
appendent  sting,  no  consequent  loathing,  no  remorses,  or  bitter  farewells; 
but  such  an  one  as,  being  honey  in  the  month,  never  turns  to  gall  or 
gravel  in  the  belly.  A pleasure  made  for  the  soul,  and  the  soul  for  that ; 
suitable  to  its  spirituality,  and  equal  to  all  its  capacities.  Such  an  one 
as  grows  fresher  upon  enjoyment,  and  though  continually  fed  upon,  yet 


FAK  IT. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


269 


PARADOX  II. 

A MAN  WHO  IS  VIRTUOUS  IS  DESTITUTE  OF  NO  REQUISITE  OF 
A HAPPY  LIFE. 

Never,  for  iny  part,  did  I imagine  Marcus  Regulus  tc 
have  been  distressed,  or  unhappy,  or  wretched ; because  his 
magnanimity  was  not  tortured  by  the  Carthaginians;  nor 
was  the  weight  of  his  authority ; nor  was  his  honor ; nor 
was  his  resolution ; nor  was  one  of  his  virtues ; nor,  in 
short,  did  his  soul  suffer  their  torments,  for  a soul  with  the 
guard  and  retinue  of  so  many  virtues,  never  surely  could  be 
taken,  though  his  body  was  made  captive.^  We  have  seen 

is  never  devoured.  A pleasure  that  a man  may  call  as  properly  his  own 
as  his  soul  and  his  conscience ; neither  liable  to  accident,  nor  exposed  to 
injury.  It  is  the  foretaste  of  heaven,  and  the  earnest  of  eternity.  In  a 
word,  it  is  such  an  one,  as  being  begun  in  grace  passes  into  glory,  bless- 
edness, and  immortality,  and  those  pleasures  that  ‘ neither  eye  has  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  nor  has  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive  ’ ” — 
South’s  Sermons,  vol.  i.  sermon  1. 

^ “ The  sect  of  ancient  philosophers  that  boasted  to  have  carried  this 
necessary  science  to  the  highest  perfection  were  the  Stoics,  or  scholars 
of  Zeno,  whose  wild  enthusiastic  virtue  pretended  to  an  exemption  from 
the  sensibilities  of  unenlightened  mortals,  and  who  proclaimed  them- 
salves  exalted,  by  the  doctrines  of  their  sect,  above  the  reach  of  those 
miseries  which  embitter  life  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  They  therefore 
removed  pain,  poverty,  loss  of  friends,  exile,  and  violent  death,  from  the 
catalogue  of  evils ; and  passed,  in  their  haughty  style,  a kind  of  irrever 
sible  decree,  by  which  they  forbade  them  to  be  counted  any  longer 
among  the  objects  of  terror  or  anxiety,  or  to  give  any  disturbance  to  the 
tranquillity  of  a wise  man. 

“ This  edict  was,  I think,  not  universally  observed ; for  though  one  of 
the  more  resolute,  when  he  was  tortured  by  a violent  disease,  cried  out 
that  let  pain  harass  him  to  its  utmost  power,  it  should  never  force  him 
to  consider  it  as  other  than  indifferent  and  neutral ; yet  all  had  not  stub- 
bornness to  hold  out  against  their  senses ; for  a weaker  pupil  of  Zeno  is 
recorded  to  have  confessed,  in  the  anguish  of  the  gout,  that  he  now  found 
pain  to  be  an  evil. 

“ It  may,  however,  be  questioned,  whether  these  philosophers  can  be 
very  properly  numbered  among  the  teachers  of  patience ; for  if  pain  be 
not  an  evil,  there  seems  no  instruction  requisite  how  it  may  be  borne ; 
and,  therefore,  when  they  endeavor  to  arm  their  followers  with  arguments 
against  it,  they  may  be  thought  to  have  given  up  their  first  position. 
But  such  inconsistencies  are  to  be  expected  from  the  greatest  under- 
standings, when  they  endeavor  to  grow  eminent  by  singularity,  and  em 
ploy  their  strength  in  establishing  opinions  opposite  to  nature.  The 
controversy  about  the  reality  of  external  evils  is  now  at  an  end.  That 


270 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  II. 


Caius  Marius ; he,  in  my  opinion,  was  in  2)rosperity  one  of 
the  happiest,  and  in  adversity  one  of  the  greatest  of  men 
than  which  man  can  have  no  happier  lot.  Thou  hnowest 
not,  foolish  man,  thou  knowest  not  what  power  virtue 
possesses ; thou  only  usurpest  the  name  of  virtue ; thou 
art  a stranger  to  her  influence.  'No  man  who  is  wholly 
consistent  within  himself,  and  who  reposes  all  his  interests 
in  himself  alone,  can  be  otherwise  than  completely  happy.' 
But  the  man  whose  every  hope,  and  scheme,  and  design 
depends  upon  fortune,  such  a man  can  have  no  certainty  ; — 
can  possess  nothing  assured  to  him  as ' destined  to  continue 
for  a single  day.  If  you  have  any  such  man  in  your  power, 
you  may  terrify  him  by  threats  of  death  or  exile  ; but  what- 
ever can  happen  to  me  in  so  ungrateful  a country,  will  find 
me  not  only  not  opposing,  but  even  not  refusing  it.  To 
what  purpose  have  I toiled?  to  what  purpose  have  I acted? 
or  on  what  have  my  cares  and  meditations  been  watchfully 
employed,  if  I have  produced  and  arrived  at  no  such  results, 
as  that  neither  the  outrages  of  fortune  nor  the  injuries  of 
enemies  can  shatter  me.  Do  you  threaten  me  with  death  V 
life  has  many  miseries,  and  that  those  miseries  are  sometimes  at  least, 
equal  to  all  the  powers  of  fortitude,  is  now  universally  confessed ; and, 
therefore,  it  is  useful  to  consider  not  only  how  we  may  escape  them,  but 
by  what  means  those  which  either  the  accidents  of  affairs,  or  the  infirm- 
ities of  nature,  must  bring  upon  us,  may  be  mitigated  and  lightened, 
and  how  we  may  make  those  hours  less  wretched,  which  the  condition 
of  our  present  existence  will  not  allow  to  be  very  happy.” — Dr.  Johnson, 
Rambler,  No.  32. 

1 “ There  is  nothing  that  can  raise  a man  to  that  generous  absolute- 
ness of  condition,  as  neither  to  cringe,  to  fawn,  or  to  depend  meanly ; 
but  that  which  gives  him  that  happiness  within  himself  for  which  men 
depend  upon  others.  For  surely  1 need  salute  no  great  man’s  threshold, 
sneak  to  none  of  his  friends  or  servants,  to  speak  a good  word  for  me  to 
my  conscience.  It  is  a noble  and  a sure  defiance  of  a great  malice, 
backed  with  a great  interest,  which  yet  can  have  no  advantage  of  a man, 
but  from  his  own  expectations  of  something  that  is  without  himselC 
But  if  I can  make  my  duty  my  delight ; if  I can  feast,  and  please,  and 
caress  my  mind,  with  the  pleasures  of  worthy  speculations  or  virtuous 
practices ; let  greatness  and  malice  vex  and  abridge  me,  if  they  can ; my 
pleasures  are  as  free  as  my  will,  no  more  to  be  controlled  than  my 
choice,  or  the  unlimited  range  of  my  thoughts  and  my  desires.” — South’s 
Sermons,  Vol.  i..  Sermon  I. 

2 To  be  understood  as  addressed  to  Anthony.  Virgil  has  a similar 
idea: — 

“Breve  et  irreparabile  tempus, 

Omnibus  est  vitaj,  sed  famam  extendere  factis 
Hoc  virtutis  opus.” — .^n.  X.  ver.  467-469. 


PAR.  Hi. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


271 


whicli  is  separating  me  from  mankind  ? Or  with  exile, 
which  is  removing  me  from  the  wicked  ? Death  is  dreadful 
to  the  man  whose  all  is  extinguished  with  his  life  ; hut  not 
to  him  whose  glory  never  can  die.  Exile  is  terrible  to 
those  who  have,  as  it  were,  a circumscribed  habitation ; but 
not  to  those  who  look  upon  the  whole  globe  but  as  one  city. 
lYoubles  and  miseries  oppress  thee  who  thinkest  thyself 
happy  and  properous.  Thy  lusts  torment  thee,  day  and 
night  thou  art  upon  the  rack;  for  whom  that  which  thou 
possessest  is  not  sufficient,  and  who  art  ever  trembling  lest  even 
that  should  not  continue ; the  consciousness  of  thy  misdeeds 
tortures  thee  ; the  terrors  of  the  laws  and  the  dread  of  justice 
appall  thee ; look  where  thou  wilt,  thy  crimes,  like  so  many 
furies,  meet  thy  view  and  suffer  thee  not  to  breathe.^  There- 
fore, as  no  man  can  be  happy  if  he  is  wicked,  foolish,  or  indo- 
lent ; so  no  man  can  be  wretched,  if  he  is  virtuous,  brave,  and 
wise.  Glorious  is  the  life  of  that  man  whose  virtues  and 
practice  are  praiseworthy  ; nor  indeed  ought  that  life  to  be 
escaped  from  vrliich  is  deserving  of  praise,  though  it  might 
well  be  if  it  v/cio  a wretched  one.  We  are  therefore  to  look 
upon  whatever  is  worthy  of  praise  as  at  once  happy,  prosperous, 
and  desirable. 


PAEADOX  III. 

THAT  ALL  MISDEEDS  ARE  IN  THEMSELVES  EQUAL,  AND  GOOD 
DEEDS  THE  SAME. 

The  matter  it  may  be  said  is  a trifle,  but  the  crime  is 
enormous ; for  crimes  are  not  to  be  measured  by  the  issue  of 
events,  but  from  the  bad  intentions  of  men.^  The  fact  in 

^ “Though,”  says  South,  in  the  sermon  from  which  we  have  several 
times  quoted,  “company  may  reprieve  a man  from  his  melancholy,  yet  it 
can  not  secure  him  from  his  conscience,  nor  from  sometimes  being  alone. 
And  what  is  all  that  a man  enjoys  from  a week’s,  a month’s,  or  a year’s 
converse,  comparable  to  what  he  feelfs  or  one  hour,  when  his  conscience 
shall  take  him  aside  and  rate  him  by  himself.” 

2 The  ethical  principle  of  Cicero,  so  far  from  having  been  improved 
upon  in  modern  times,  shows  in -.favorable  contrast  beside  that  of  the 
eminent  Christian  moralist,  Paley.  “The  method,”  he  says,  “of  coming 
at  the  will  of  God,  concerning  any  action,  by  the  light  of  nature,  is  to 
inquire  into  the  tendency  of  that  action  to  promote  or  diminish  the  gene- 
ral happiness. 

“ So  then  actions  are  to  be  estimated  by  their  tendency.  ‘Whatever  is 


272 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAE.  III. 


•whicli  the  sin  consists  may  be  greater  in  one  instance  and 
less  in  another,  but  guilt  itself,  in  whatsoever  light  you  be- 
hold it,  is  the  same.  A pilot  oversets  a ship  laden  with  gold 
or  one  laden  with  straw : in  value  there  is ' some  difference, 
but  in  the  ignorance  of  the  pilot  there  is  none.  Your  illicit 
desire  has  fallen  upon  an  obscure  female.  The  mortification 
affects  fewer  persons  than  if  it  had  broken  out  in  the  case  of 
some  high-born  and  noble  virgin ; nevertheless  it  has  been 
guilty,  if  it  be  guilty  to  overstep  the  mark.  When  yon  have 
done  this,  a crime  has  been  committed ; nor  does  it  matter 

expedient,  is  right.  It  is  the  utility  of  any  moral  rule  alone  which  con- 
stitutes the  obligation  of  it.  But  to  all  this  there  seems  a plain  objec- 
tion, viz.,  that  many  actions  are  useful,  which  no  man  in  his  senses  will 
allow  to  be  right.  There  are  occasions  in  which  the  hand  of  the  assassin 
would  be  very  useful.  The  present  possessor  of  some  great  estate  em- 
ploys his  influence  and  fortune,  to  annoy,  corrupt,  or  oppress,  all  about 
him.  His  estate  would  devolve,  by  his  death,  to  a successor  of  an  oppo- 
site character.  It  is  useful,  therefore,  to  dispatch  such  a one  as  soon  as 
possible  out  of  the  way ; as  the  neighborhood  will  exchange  thereby  a 
pernicious  tyrant  for  a wise  and  generous  benefactor.  It  might  be  use- 
ful to  rob  a miser,  and  give  the  money  to  the  poor ; as  the  money,  no 
doubt,  would  produce  more  happiness  by  being  laid  out  in  food  and  cloth- 
ing for  half  a dozen  distressed  families,  than  by  continuing  locked  up  in 
a miser’s  chest.  It  may  be  useful  to  get  possession  of  a place,  a piece 
of  preferment,  or  of  a seat  in  Parliament,  by  bribery  or  false  swearing : 
as  by  means  of  them  we  may  serve  the  public  more  effectually  than  in 
our  private  station.  What  then  shall  we  say  ? Must  we  admit  these 
actions  to  be  right,  which  would  be  to  justify  assassination,  plunder,  and 
perjury ; or  must  we  give  up  our  principle,  that  the  criterion  of  right  is 
utility  ? It  is  not  necessary  to  do  either.  The  true  answer  is  this ; that 
these  actions,  after  all,  are  not  useful,  and  for  that  reason,  and  that  alone, 
are  not  right.  To  see  this  point  perfectly,  it  must  be  observed  that  the 
bad  consequences  of  actions  are  twofold,  particular  and  general.  The 
particular  bad  consequences  of  an  action,  is  the  mischief  which  that  single 
action  directly  and  immediately  occasions.  The  general  bad  consequence 
is,  the  violation  of  some  necessary  or  useful  general  rule.  Thus,  the 
particular  bad  consequence  of  the  assassination  above  described,  is  the 
fright  and  pain  which  the  deceased  underwent ; the  loss  he  suffered  of 
life,  which  is  as  valuable  to  a bad  man  as  to  a good  one,  or  more  so ; the 
prejudice  and  affliction,  of  which  his  death  was  the  occasion,  to  his  fam- 
ily, friends,  and  dependents.  The  general  bad  consequence  is  the  viola- 
tion of  this  necessary  general  rule,  that  no  man  be  put  to  death  for  his 
crimes  but  by  public  authority.  Although,  therefore,  such  an  action 
have  no  particular  bad  consequence,  or  greater  particular  good  conse- 
quences, yet  it  is  not  useful,  by  reason  of  the  general  consequence, 
which  is  of  more  importance,  and  which  is  evil.” — Moral  and  Political 
Philosophy, 


PAR.  III. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


21^ 

in  aggravation  of  the  fault  how  far  you  ■ run  afterward ; 
certainly  it  is  not  lawful  for  any  one  to  commit  sin,  and  that 
which  is  unlawful  is  limited  by  this  sole  condition,  that  it 
is  shown  to  be  wrong.  If  this  guilt  can  neither  be  made 

greater  nor  less  (because,  if  the  thing  was  unlawful,  therein 

sin  was  committed),  then  the  vicious  acts  which  spring  out 
of  that  which  is  ever  one  and  the  same  must  necessarily  be 
equal.  Now  if  virtues  are  equal  among  themselves,  it 
must  necessarily  follow  that  vices  are  so  likewise ; and  it  is 
most  easy  to  be  perceived  that  a man  can  not  be  better  than 
good,  more  temperate  than  temperate,  braver  than  brave, 
nor  wiser  than  wise.  Will  any  man  call  a person  honest, 

who,  having  a deposit  of  ten  pounds  of  gold  made  to  him 

without  any  witness,  so  that  he  might  take  advantage  of  it 
with  impunity,  shall  restore  it,  and  yet  should  not  do  the 
same  in  the  case  of  ten  thousand  pounds  ? ^ Can  a man  be 
accounted  temperate  who  checks  one  inordinate  passion  and 
gives  a loose  to  another  ? Virtue  is  uniform,  conformable  to 
reason,  and  of  unvarying  consistency ; nothing  can  be  added 
to  it  that  can  make  it  more  than  virtue  ; nothing  can  be 
taken  from  it,  and  the  name  of  virtue  be  left.  If  good  offices 
are  done  with  an  upright  intention,  nothing  can  be  more 
upright  than  upright  is ; and  therfore  it  is  impossible  that  any 
thing  should  be  better  than  what  is  good.  It  therefore  follows 
that  all  vices  are  equal ; for  the  obliquities  of  the  mind  are 
properly  termed  vices.  Now  we  may  infer,  that  as  all  virtues 
are  equal,  therefore  all  good  actions,  when  they  spring  from 
virtues,  ought  to  be  equal  likewise  ; and  therefore  it  necessarily 
follows,  that  evil  actions  springing  from  vices,  should  be  also  equal. 

You  borrow,  says  one,  these  views  from  philosophers.  I 
was  afraid  you  would  have  told  me  that  I borrowed  it  from 
panders.  But  Socrates  reasoned  in  the  manner  you  do. — 
By  Hercules,  you  say  well ; for  it  is  recorded  that  he  was  a 
learned  and  a wise  person.  Meanwhile  as  we  are  contending, 
not  with  blows,  but  with  words,  I ask  you  whether  good 
men  should  inquire  what  was  the  opinion  of  porters  and 
laborers,  or  that  of  the  wisest  of  mankind  ? Especially  too 

^ The  reader  will  probably  be  reminded  by  this  passage  of  the  words 
of  the  Great  Teacher:  “He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is 
faithful  also  in  much.  And  he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least,  is  unjust  also 
m much.’' — Luke,  chap.  xvi.  10. 


12*^ 


274 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  iir. 


as  no  truer  sentiment  than  this  can  he  found,  nor  one  more 
conducive  to  the  interests  of  human  life.  For  what  influence 
is  there  which  can  more  deter  men  from  the  commission  of 
every  kind  of  evil,  than  if  they  become  sensible  that  there  are 
no  degrees  in  sin  ? That  the  crime  is  the  same,  whether  they 
offer  violence  to  private  persons  or  to  magistrates.  That  in 
whatever  families  they  have  gratified  their  illicit  desire,  the 
turpitude  of  their  lust  is  the  same. 

But  some  one  will  say,  what  then  ? does  it  make  no  diflfer- 
ence,  whether  a man  murders  his  father  or  his  slave  ? If 
you  instance  these  acts  abstractedly,  it  is  difficult  to  decide 
of  what  quality  they  are.  If  to  deprive  a parent  of  life  is  in 
itself  a most  heinous  crime,  the  Saguntines  were  then  parri- 
cides, because  they  chose  that  their  parents  should  die  as 
freemen  rather  than  live  as  slaves.  Thus  a case  may  happen 
in  which  there  may  be  no  guilt  in  depriving  a parent  of  life, 
and  very  often  we  can  not  without  guilt  put  a slave  to  death. 
The  circumstances  therefore  attending  this  case,  and  not  the 
nature  of  the  thing,  occasion  the  distinction : these  circum- 
stances as  they  lean  to  either  case,  that  case  becomes  the 
more  favorable ; but  if  they  appertain  alike  to  both,  the 
acts  are  then  equal.  There  is  this  difierence — ^that  in  killing 
a slave,  if  wrong  is  done,  it  is  a single  sin  that  is  committed ; 
but  many  are  involved  in  taking  the  life  of  a father.  The 
object  of  violence  is  the  man  who  begat  you,  the  man  who 
fed  you,  the  man  who  brought  you  up,  the  man  who  gave 
your  position  in  your  home,  your  family,  and  the  state.  This 
ofiense  is  greater  by  reason  of  the  number  of  sins  (involved 
in  it),  and  is  deserving  of  a proportionately  greater  punish- 
ment. But  in  life  we  are  not  to  consider  what  should  be  the 
punishment  of  each  ofiense,  but  what  is  the  rule  of  right  to 
each  individual.  We  are  to  consider  every  thing  that  is  not 
becoming  as  wicked,  and  every  thing  which  is  unlawful  as 
heinous.  What ! even  in  the  most  trifling  matters  ? To  be 
sure  ; for  if  we  are  unable  to  regulate  the  course  of  events, 
yet  we  may  place  a bound  to  our  passions.  If  a player 
dances  ever  so  little  out  of  time,  if  a verse  is  pronounced  by 
him  longer  or  shorter  by  a single  syllable  than  it  ought  to 
be,  he  is  hooted  and  hissed  off  the  stage.  And  shall  you,  who 
ought  to  be  better  regulated  than  any  gesture,  and  more  regu- 
lar than  any  verse  shall  you  be  found  faulty  even  in  a syllable 


PAR.  IV. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


2'75 


of  conduct  ? I overlook  the  trifling  faults  of  a poet ; but  shall 
I approve  my  fellow-citizen’s  life  while  he  is  counting  his  mis- 
deeds with  his  fingers  ? If  some  of  these  are  trifling/  how  can 
it  be  regarded  as  more  venial  when  whatever  wrong  is  commit- 
ted, is  committed  to  the  violation  of  reason  and  order  ? Now, 
if  reason  and  order  are  violated,  nothing  can  be  added  by  which 
the  oftense  can  seem  to  be  aggravated. 

PARADOX  IV. 

THAT  EVERY  FOOL  IS  A MADMAN. 

1 WILL  now  convict  you,^  by  infallible  considerations, 
not  as  a fool,  as  I have  often  done,  nor  as  a villain,  as  I 
always  do,  but  as  insane  and  mad.  Could  the  mind  of 
the  wise  man,  fortified  as  with  walls  by  depth  of  counsel, 
by  patient  endurance  of  human  ills,  by  contempt  of  for- 
tune; in  short,  by  all  the  virtues — a mind  that  could  not 
be  expelled  out  of  this  community — shall  such  a mind  be 
overpowered  and  taken  by  storm  ? For  what  do  we  call 
a community  ? Surely,  not  every  assembly  of  thieves  and 
ruffians?  Is  it  then  the  entire  rabble  of  outlaws  and 
robbers  assembled  in  one  plaee  ? No ; you  will  doubtless 
reply.  Then  this  was  no  community  when  its  laws  had  no 
force ; when  its  courts  of  justice  were  prostrated ; when  the 
custom  of  the  country  had  fallen  into  contempt ; when,  the 
magistrates  having  been  driven  away  by  the  sword,  there  was 
not  even  the  name  of  a senate  in  the  state.  Could  that  gang 
of  ruffians,  that  assembly  of  villains  which  you  head  in  the 
forum,  could  those  remains  of  Catiline’s  frantic  conspiracy, 
diverted  to  your  mad  and  guilty  schemes,  be  termed  a com- 
munity ? I could  not  therefore  be  expelled  from  a commu- 
nity, because  no  such  then  existed.  I was  summoned  back 
to  a community  when  there  was  a consul  in  the  state,  which 

' The  reference  here  is  to  beating  time  to  the  quantity  of  syllables  in 
a verse,  and  the  term  hreviora^  which  is  here  rendered  by  the  word 
“trifling,”  indicates  the  short  syllables  in  the  metre. 

2 This  paradox  takes  for  its  illustration  the  life  of  Publius  Clodius,  a 
Roman  soldier  of  noble  birth,  but  infamous  for  the  corruption  of  his 
morals.  He  was  ultimately  slain  by  the  retinue  of  Milo,  in  a renconter 
which  took  place  between  the  two  as  Milo  was  journeying  toward  Lanu- 
vium,  his  native  place,  and  Clodius  was  on  his  way  to  Rome. 


276 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  IV. 


at  the  former  time  there  was  not ; when  there  was  a senate, 
which  then  had  ceased  to  exist ; when  the  voice  of  the  people 
was  free ; and  when  laws  and  equity,  those  bonds  of  a commu- 
nity,  had  been  restored. 

But  see  how  much  I despised  the  shafts  of  your  villainy. 
That  you  aimed  your  villainous  wrongs  at  me,  I was  always 
aware ; but  that  they  reached  me  I never  thought.  It  is 
true,  you  might  think  that  somewhat  belonging  to  me  was 
tumbling  down  or  consuming,  when  you  were  demolishing  my 
walls,  and  applying  your  detestable  torches  to  the  roofs  of  my 
houses.  But  neither  I nor  any  man  can  call  that  our  own 
which  can  be  taken  away,  plundered,  or  lost.  Could  you  have 
robbed  mo  of  my  godlike  constancy  of  mind,  of  my  applica- 
tion, of  my  vigilance,  and  of  those  measures  through  which, 
to  your  confusion,  the  republic  now  exists  ; could  you  have 
abolished  the  eternal  memory  of  this  lasting  service ; far  more, 
had  you  robbed  me  of  that  soul  from  which  these  designs 
emanated ; then,  indeed,  I should  have  confessed  that  I had 
received  an  injury.  But  as  you  neither  did  nor  could  do 
this,  your  persecution  rendered  my  return  glorious,  but  not 
my  departure  miserable.  I,  therefore,  was  always  a citizen 
of  Rome,  but  especially  at  the  time  when  the  senate  charged 
foreign  nations  with  my  preservation  as  the  best  of  her  citi- 
zens. As  to  you,  you  are  at  this  time  no  citizen,  unless  the 
same  person  can  be  at  once  a citizen  and  an  enemy.  Can  you 
distinguish  a citizen  from  an  enemy  by  the  accidents  of 
nature  and  place,  and  not  by  its  affections  and  actions  ? 
You  have  perpetrated  a massacre  in  the  forum,  and  occupied 
the  temples  with  bands  of  armed  ruffians;  you  have  set  on 
fire  the  temples  of  the  gods  and  the  houses  of  private  citizens. 
If  you  are  a citizen,  in  what  sense  was  Spartacus  an  enemy  ? 
Can  you  be  a citizen,  through  whom,  for  a time,  the  state  had 
no  existence  ? And  do  you  apply  to  me  your  own  designa- 
tion, when  all  mankind  thought  that  on  my  departure  Rome 
herself  was  gone  into  exile  ? Thou  most  frantic  of  all  mad- 
men, wilt  thou  never  look  around  thee  ? Wilt  thou  never  con- 
sider what  thou  sayest,  or  what  thou  doest  ? Dost  thou  not 
know  that  exile  is  the  penalty  of  guilt : but  that  the  journey 
I set  out  upon  was  undertaken  by  me  in  consequence  of  the 
most  illustiious  exploits  performed  by  me  ? All  the  criminals, 
all  the  profligates,  of  whom  you  avow  yourself  the  leader,  and 


PAR.  T. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


277 


on  whom  our  laws  pronounce  the  sentence  of  banishment,  are 
exiles,  even  though  they  have  not  changed  their  locality.  At 
the  time  when  all  our  laws  doom  thee  to  banishment,  wilt 
thou  not  be  an  exile  ? Is  not  the  man  an  enemy  who  carries 
about  him  offensive  weapons  ? A cut-throat  belonging  to  you 
Avas  taken  near  the  senate-house.  Who  has  murdered  a man  ? 
You  have  murdered  many.  Who  is  an  incendiary  ? You ; 
for  with  your  own  hand  you  set  fire  to  the  temple  of  the 
nymphs.  Who  violated  the  temples  ? You  pitched  your 
camp  in  the  forum.  But  what  do  I talk  of  well-known  laws, 
all  which  doom  you  to  exile ; for  your  most  intimate  friend 
carried  through  a bill  with  reference  to  you,  by  which  you 
were  condemned  to  be  banished,  if  it  was  found  that  you  had 
presented  yourself  at  the  my‘=’teries  of  the  goddess  Bona  ; and 
you  are  even  accustomed  to  boast  that  you  did  so.^  As  there- 
fore you  have  by  so  many  laAvs  been  doomed  to  banishment, 
how  is  it  that  you  do  not  shrink  from  the  designation  of  exile  ? 
You  say  you  are  still  at  Eome,  and  that  you  were  present  at 
the  mysteries  too  : but  a man  will  not  be  free  of  the  place 
where  he  may  be,  if  he  can  not  be  there  Avith  the  sanction  of 
the  laws. 


PAKADOX  Y. 

THAT  THE  WISE  MAN  ALONE  IS  FREE,  AND  THAT  EVERY  FOOL 
IS  A SLAVE. 

Here  let  a generaP  be  celebrated,  or  let  him  be  honored 
with  that  title,  or  let  him  be  thought  worthy  of  it.  But 
how  or  over  what  free  man  will  he  exercise  control  who 
can  not  command  his  own  passions  f Let  him  in  the  first 

1 Among  other  offenses  Clodius  is  said  to  have  violated  the  myste- 
ries of  the  Bona  Dea  by  penetrating  into  the  house  of  Caesar  during  their 
celebration,  disguised  in  female  attire.  He  was  led  to  the  commission 
of  this  act  by  a guilty  attachment  to  Pompeia,  Caesar’s  wife.  Being  tried 
for  this  impiety,  he  managed  to  escape  by  bribing  the  judges.” — Anthon’s 
Cicero:  Historical  Index. 

2 Supposed  to  refer  to  Marcus  Antonius. 

3 On  this  principle  Lactantius  denies  that  Hercules  was  a man  of  real 
courage,  because  he  was  unable  to  vanquish  his  own  passions ; for,  says 
he,  that  man  who  overcomes  a lion  is  not  to  be  considered  more  brave 
than  he  who  quells  his  own  anger,  that  raging  monster  that  resides 
Avithin  himself ; nor  the  man  who  lays  low  the  most  rapacious  winged 
creatures  than  he  who  restrains  his  own  craving  desires ; nor  the  man 


278 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  Y. 


place  bridle  liis  lusts,  let  liim  despise  pleasures,  let  him 
subdue  anger,  let  him  get  the  better  of  avarice,  let  him 
expunge  the  other  stains  on  his  character,  and  then  when 
he  himself  is  no  longer  in  subjection  to  disgrace  and  de- 
gradation, the  most  savage  tyrants,  let  him  then,  I say, 
begin  to  command  others.^  But  while  he  is  subservient 
to  these,  not  only  is  he  not  to  be  regarded  as  a general, 
but  he  is  by  no  means  to  be  considered  as  even  a free 
man.  This  is  nobly  laid  down  by  the  most  learned  men, 
whose  authority  I should  not  make  use  of  were  I now 
addressing  myself  to  an  assembly  of  rustics.  But  as  I 
speak  to  the  wisest  men,  to  whom  these  things  are  not  new, 
why  should  I falsely  pretend  that  all  the  application  I have 

who  conquers  the  warlike  amazon,  than  ho  who  subjugates  his  lust — that 
victorious  foe  of  modesty  and  reputation ; nor  the  man  who  casts  out 
the  filth  from  a stable,  than  he  who  has  expelled  the  vices  from  bis  heart, 
which  are  the  more  destructive,  inasmuch  as  evils  that  are  internal  and 
part  of  ourselves,  are  worse  than  those  which  may  be  shunned  and 
avoided. 

^ “ Rest  not  in  an  ovation,  but  a triumph  over  thy  passions.  Let  anger 
walk  hanging  down  the  head,  let  malice  go  manacled,  and  envy  fettered 
after  thee.  Behold  within  thee  the  long  train  of  thy  trophies,  not  with- 
out thee.  Make  the  quarreling  Lapithytes  sleep,  and  Centaurs  within 
lie  quiet.  Chain  up  the  unruly  legion  of  thy  breast.  Lead  thine  own 
captivity  captive,  and  be  Cmsar  within  thyself.” — Sir  Thomas  Browne’s 
Christian  Morals,  Part  I.  chap.  2. 

“Be  not,”  says  the  same  author,  “a  Herculeus  fureus  abroad,  and  a 
poltroon  within  thyself  To  chase  our  enemies  out  of  the  field,  and  be 
led  captive  by  our  vices ; to  beat  down  our  foes,  and  fall  down  to  our 
concupiscences ; are  solecisms  in  moral  schools,  and  no  laurel  attends 
thereon.  To  well  manage  our  affections,  and  wild  horses  of  Plato,  are 
the  highest  circenses ; and  the  noblest  digladiation  is  in  the  theater  of 
ourselves ; for  therein  our  inward  antagonists,  not  only  like  common 
gladiators,  with  ordinary  weapons  and  downright  blows  make  at  us,  but 
also  like  retiary  and  laqueary  combatants  with  nets,  frauds,  and  entang- 
lements, fall  upon  us.  Weapons  for  such  combats  are  not  to  be  forged 
atLipara;  Yulcan’s  art  doth  nothing  in  this  internal  militia;  wherein 
not  the  armor  of  Achilles,  but  the  armature  of  St.  Paul,  gives  the  glori- 
ous day,  and  triumphs,  not  leading  up  into  capitols,  but  up  into  the 
highest  heavens.  And,  therefore,  while  so  many  think  it  the  only  valor 
to  command  and  master  others,  study  thou  the  dominion  of  thyself,  and 
quiet  thine  own  commotions.  Let  right  reason  be  thy  Lycurgus,  and 
lift  up  thy  hand  unto  the  law  of  it ; move  by  thy  intelligences  of  the 
superior  faculties,  not  by  the  rapt  of  passion,  nor  merely  by  that  of  tem- 
per and  constitution.  They  who  are  merely  carried  on  by  the  wheel  of 
such  inclinations,  without  the  hand  and  guidance  of  sovereign  reason, 
are  but  the  automatous  part  of  mankind,  rather  lived  than  living,  or  at 
least  underliving  themselves.” — Ibid.  chap.  24. 


PAR.  V. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


279 


bestowed  upon  this  study  has  been  lost  ? It  has  been  said, 
then,  by  the  most  learned  men,  that  none  but  the  wise  man 
is  free.  For  what  is  liberty?  The  power  of  living  as  you 
please.  Who,  then,  is  he  who  lives  as  he  pleases,  but  the 
man  surely  who  follows  righteousness,  who  rejoices  in  ful- 
filling his  duty,  and  whose  path  of  life  has  been  well 
considered  and  preconcerted  ; the  man  who  obeys  the 
laws  of  his  country,  not  out  of  dread,  but  pays  them  re- 
spect and  reverence,  because  he  thinks  that  course  the  most 
salutary ; who  neither  does  nor  thinks  any  thing  otherwise 
than  cheerfully  and  freely  ; the  man,  all  whose  designs  and 
all  the  actions  he  performs  arise  from  and  are  terminated  in 
his  proper  self;^  the  man  who  is  swayed  by  nothing  so 
much  as  by  his  own  inclination  and  judgment ; the  man 
who  is  master  of  fortune  herself,  whose  influence  is  said  to 
be  sovereign,  agreeably  to  what  the  sage  poet  says,  ‘‘the 
fortune  of  every  man  is  molded  by  his  character.*  To  the 

1 That  is,  his  understanding,  as  distinct  from  his  passions. 

2 “The  regulation  of  every  man’s  plan,”  says  John  Foster,  in  his  cele- 
brated Essay  on  Decision  of  Character,  “ must  greatly  depend  upon  tho 
course  of  events,  which  come  in  an  order  not  to  be  foreseen  or  prevented. 
But  in  accommodating  the  plans  of  conduct  to  the  train  of  events,  the 
difference  between  two  men  may  be  no  less  than  that,  in  the  one  instance, 
the  man  is  subservient  to  the  events,  and  in  the  other  the  events  are 
made  subservient  to  tho  man.  Some  men  seem  to  have  been  taken 
along  by  a succession  of  events,  and  as  it  were  handed  forward  in  help- 
less passiveness  from  one  to  another ; having  no  determined  principle  in 
their  own  characters  by  which  they  could  constrain  those  events  to  servo 
a design  formed  antecedently  to  them,  or  apparently  in  defiance  of  them. 
The  events  seized ‘them  as  a neutral  material,  not  they  the  events. 
Others,  advancing  through  life  with  an  internal,  invincible  determination, 
have  seemed  to  make  the  train  of  circumstances,  whatever  they  were, 
conduce  as  much  to  their  chief  design  as  if  they  had,  by  some  directing 
interposition,  been  brought  about  on  purpose.  It  is  wonderful  how  even 
the  casualties  of  life  seem  to  bow  to  a spirit  that  wiU  not  bow  to  them, 
and  yield  to  subserve  a design  which  they  may  in  their  first  apparent 
tendency  threaten  to  frustrate.” 

Shakespeare  develops  a similar  idea  in  the  following  passage : 

“ Men  at  some  times  are  masters  of  their  fate ; 

The  fault,  dear  Brutus,  is  not  in  our  stars. 

But  in  ourselves,  that  we  are  underlings.” — Julius  Caesar. 

And  a far  earlier,  and  scarcely  less  skillful  anatomist  of  human  nature 
thus  apostrophizes  the  imaginary  goddess : 

“Xullum  numen  habes,  si  sit  prudentia;  nos  to. 

Nos  facimus,  Fortuna,  deam,  coeloque  locamus.” 

Juvenal,  Sat.  y.  365,  3 66. 


280 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  Y. 


wise  man  alone  it  happens,  that  he  does  nothing  against  his 
will,  nothing  with  pain,  nothing  by  coercion.  It  would,  it  is 
true,  require  a large  discourse  to  prove  that  this  is  so,  but  it  is 
a briefly  stated*  and  admitted  principle,  that  no  man  but  he  who 
is  thus  constituted  can  be  free.  All  wicked  men  therefore  are 
slaves,  and  this  is  not  so  surprising  and  incredible  in  fact  as  it  is 
in  words.  For  they  are  not  slaves  in  the  sense  those  bondmen 
are  who  are  the  properties  of  their  masters  by  purchase,  or  by 
any  law  of  the  state  ; but  if  obedience  to  a disordered,  abject 
mind,  destitute  of  self-control  be  slavery  (and  such  it  is^),  who 
can  deny  that  all  the  dishonest,  all  the  covetous,  in  short,  all 
the  wicked,  are  slaves  ? 

Can  I call  the  men  free  whom  a woman  governs,  to  whom 
she^  gives  laws,  lays  down  directions,  orders  and  forbids 
what  to  her  seems  fit ; while  he  can  deny  and  dare  refuse 
nothing  that  she  commands  ? ® Does  she  ask  ? He  must  give. 

Lord  Bacon  also  sanctions  the  same  proposition  with  his  unvarying* 
wisdom.  “ It  can  not  be  denied  but  outward  accidents  conduce  much 
to  fortune;  favor,  opportunity,  death  of  others,  occasion  fitting  virtue, 
but  chiefly,  the  mold  of  a man’s  fortune  is  in  his  own  hands : ‘ Eaber 
quisque  fortunae  suae,’  saith  the  poet,  and  the  most  frequent  of  external 
causes  is,  that  the  folly  of  one  man  is  the  fortune  of  another ; for  no 
man  prospers  so  suddenly  as  by  others’  errors.  ‘ Serpens  nisi  serpentem 
comederit  non  fit  draco.’  Overt  and  apparent  virtues  bring  forth  praise  ; 
but  there  be  secret  and  hidden  virtues  that  bring  forth  fortune ; certain 
deliveries  of  a man’s  self,  which  have  no  name.  The  Spanish  name, 
‘ disemboltura,’  partly  expresseth  these  when  there  be  not  stones  nor 
restiveness  in  a man’s  nature,  but  that  the  wheels  of  his  mind  keep  way 
with  the  wheels  of  his  fortune ; for  so  Livy  (after  he  had  described  Cato 
Major  in  these  words,  ‘ In  illo  viro,  tantum  robur  corporis  et  animi  fuit, 
ut  quocunque  loco  natus  esset,  fortunam  sibi  facturus  videretur),’  falleth 
upon  that  that  he  had,  ‘versatile  ingeniura;’  therefore,  if  a man  look 
sharply  and  attentively,  he  shall  see  fortune ; for  though  she  be  blind, 
yet  she  is  not  invisible.  The  way  of  fortune  is  like  the  milky  way  in 
the  sky  ; which  is  a meeting,  or  a knot,  of  a number  of  small  stars,  not 
seen  asunder,  but  giving  light  together ; so  are  there  a number  of  little 
and  scarce  discerned  virtues,  or  rather  faculties  and  customs,  that  make 
men  fortunate.” 

1 The  Apostle  Paul  lays  down  the  same  principle:  “Know  yo  not 
that  to  whom  ye  yield  yourselves  servants  to  obey,  his  servants  ye  are  to 
whom  ye  obey,  whether  of  sin  unto  death,  or  of  obedience  unto  right- 
eousness?”— Epist.  Rom.  chap.  vi.  ver.  16. 

2 The  reference  is  to  Antony’s  amorous  subserviency  to  Cleopatra. 

3 “If  Adam  in  the  state  of  perfection,  and  Solomon  the  son  of  David, 
God’s  chosen  servant,  and  himself  a man  endued  with  the  greatest  wis- 
dom, did  both  of  them  disobey  their  Creator  by  the  persuasion,  and  for 


TAR.  T. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


281 


Does  she  call  ? He  must  come.  Does  she  order  him  off  ? He 
must  vanish.  Does  she  threaten  ? He  must  tremble.  For  my 
part,  I call  such  a fellow,  though  he  may  have  been  born  in  the 
noblest  family,  not  only  a slave,  but  a most  abject  slave. 
And  as  in  a large  household,  some  slaves  look  upon  themselves 
as  more  genteel  than  others,  such  as  porters  or  gardeners,  yet 
still  they  are  slaves  ; in  like  manner,  they  who  are  inordinately 
fond  of  statues,  of  pictures,  of  embossed  plate,  of  works  in 
Corinthian  brass,  or  magnificent  palaces,  are  equally  fools  with 
the  others.  “ Nay,  but  (say  they)  we  are  the  most  eminent 
men  of  the  state.”  Nay  ! you  are  not  superior  to  your  fellow- 
slaves.  But  as  in  a household,  they  who  handle  the  fur- 
niture, brush  it,  anoint  their  masters,  who  sweep,  and  water, 
do  not  occupy  the  highest  rank  of  servitude  ; in  like  man- 
ner they  who  have  abandoned  themselves  to  their  passions 
for  these  things,  occupy  nearly  the  lowest  grade  of  slavery 
itself. 

But  you  say,  I have  had  the  direction  of  important  wars, 
I have  presided  over  ‘ great  empires  and  provinces.  Then 

the  love  they  bare  to  a woman,  it  is  not  so  wonderful  as  lamentable,  that 
other  men  in  succeeding  ages  have  been  allured  to  so  many  inconvenient 
and  wicked  practices  by  the  persuasion  of  their  wives  or  other  beloved 
darlings,  who  cover  over  and  shadow  many  malicious  purposes  with  a 
counterfeit  passion  of  dissimulating  sorrow  and  unquietness.” — Sir  Walter 
Raleigh. 

“It  is  a most  miserable  slavery  to  submit  to  what  you  disapprove,  and 
give  up  a truth,  for  no  other  reason  but  that  you  had  not  the  fortitude  to 
support  you  in  asserting  it.  A man  has  enough  to  do  to  conquer  his 
own  unreasonable  wishes  and  desires  ; but  he  does  that  in  vain,  if  he  has 
those  of  another  to  gratify.  But  in  all  concessions  of  this  kind,  a man 
should  consider  whether  the  present  he  makes  flows  from  his  own  love, 
or  the  importunity  of  his  beloved.  If  from  the  latter,  he  is  her  slave  ; 
if  from  the  former,  her  friend.  We  laugh  it  off,  and  do  not  weigh  this 
subjection  to  women  with  that  seriousness  which  so  important  a circum- 
stance deserves.  Why  was  courage  given  to  a man,  if  his  wife’s  fears 
are  to  frustrate  it  ? When  this  is  once  indulged,  you  are  no  longer  her 
guardian  and  protector,  as  you  were  designed  by  nature ; but  in  compli- 
ance to  her  weakness,  you  have  disabled  yourself  from  avoiding  the  mis- 
fortunes into  which  they  will  lead  you  both,  and  you  are  to  see  the  hour 
in  which  you  are  to  bo  reproached  by  herself.  It  is  indeed  the  most 
difficult  mastery  over  ourselves  to  resist  the  grief  of  her  who  charms  us, 
but  the  old  argument,  that  ‘ you  do  not  love  me  if  you  deny  me  this,’ 
which  first  was  used  to  obtain  a trifle,  by  habitual  success  will  oblige 
the  unhappy  man  who  gives  way  to  it,  to  resign  the  cause  even  of  hia 
country  and  his  honor.” — Addison.  Spectator,  No.  510. 


282 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  V. 


carry  about  you  a soul  worthy  of  praise.  A painting  of 
Echion,  or  some  statue  of  Polycletus,  bolds  you  bereft  of 
your  senses  : I shall  not  mention  from  whom  you  took  it,  or 
by  what  means  you  possess  it : but  when  I see  you  staring, 
gaping,  and  uttering  cries,  I look  upon  you  to  be  the  slave  of 
all  these  follies.  You  ask  me,  “ Are  not  these,  then,  elegant 
amusements  They  are  : for  I too  have  a cultivated  eye  ; 
but  I beseech  you,  let  these  elegances  be  so  regarded  as 
the  playthings  of  boys,  and  not  as  the  shackles  of  men. 
What  think  you  then?  If  Lucius  Mummius,  after  he  had 
expressed  his  contempt  for  all  Corinth,  had  seen  one  of  these 
men  examining  most  eagerly  a Corinthian  vase,  whether 
would  he  have  looked  upon  him  as  an  excellent  citizen,  or 
a busy  appraiser  ? If  Manius  Curius,  or  some  of  those 
Romans  who  in  their  villas  and  their  houses  had  nothing 
that  was  costly,  nothing  besides  themselves  that  was  orna- 
mental, should  come  to  life  again,  and  see  one  who  had  re- 
ceived the  highest  honors  from  the  people,  taking  out  of  his 
tank  his  mullets  or  his  carp,  then  handling  them,  and  boasting 
of  the  abundance  of  his  lampreys,  would  not  the  old  Roman 
think  that  such  a man  was  so  very  a slave,  that  he  was  not 
even  fit  for  a very  high  employment  in  a household  ? Is  the 
slavery  of  those  men  doubtful,  who  from  their  greediness  for 
wealth  spurn  no  condition  of  the  hardest  servitude  ? To  what 
meanness  of  slavery  will  not  the  hope  of  succeeding  to  an  es- 
tate make  a man  stoop  ? ^ What  gesture  of  the  childless  rich 
old  fellow  does  he  not  observe  ? He  frames  his  words  to  his 
inclination  ; he  does  whatever  is  commanded  him ; he  courts 
him,  he  sits  by  him,  he  makes  him  presents.  What  of  these  is 
the  part  of  a free  man  ? What,  indeed,  is  not  the  mark  of  an 
abject  slave. 

Well ! how  hard  a mistress  is  that  passion  which  seems 
to  be  more  characteristic  of  liberty,  I mean  that  for  public 
preferment,  for  empire,  for  provinces ; how  imperious  ! how 
irresistible  ! It  forced  the  men  who  thought  themselves  the 

* “ Riches  gotten  by  service,  though  it  be  of  the  best  rise,  yet  when 
they  are  gotten  by  flattery,  feeding  humors,  and  other  servile  conditions, 
they  may  be  placed  among  the  worst.  As  for  fishing  for  testaments  and 
executorships  (as  Tacitus  saith  of  Seneca,  * Testamenta  et  orbos  tam- 
quam  indagine  capi),  it  is  yet  worse,  by  how  much  men  submit  them- 
selves to  meaner  persons  than  in  service.” — Lord  Bacon,  Essay  34. 


PAR.  TI. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


283 


greatest  men  in  Rome  to  be  slaves  to  Cethegus,  a person 
not  the  most  respectable,  to  send  him  presents,  to  wait  upon 
him  at  nights  at  his  house,  to  turn  suitors,  nay,  supplicants 
to  him.  If  this  is  to  be  regarded  as  freedom,  what  is 

slavery  ? But  what  shall  I say  when  the  sway  of  the 

passions  is  over,  and  when  fear,  another  tyrant,  springs  out 
of  the  consciousness  of  their  misdeeds  ? What  a hard,  what 
a wretched  servitude  is  that,  when  they  must  be  slaves  to 
chattering  boys ; when  all  who  seem  to  know  any  thing 
against  them  are  feared  as  their  masters.  As  to  their  judge, 
how  powerful  is  his  sway  over  them,  with  what  terrors  does 
he  afflict  the  guilty.  And  is  not  all  fear  a slavery  ? What 
then  is  the  meaning  of  that  more  eloquent  than  wise  speech 
delivered  by  the  accomplished  orator  Crassus?  “Snatch  us 
from  slavery.”  What  slavery  could  happen  to  so  illustrious 
and  noble  a man  ? Every  terror  of  a weak,  a mean,  and  a das- 
tardly soul  is  slavery.  He  goes  on — “Suffer  us  not  to  be 
the  slaves  of  any  (you  perhaps  imagine  that  he  is  now  about 
to  assert  his  liberty.  Not  at  all,  for  what  does  he  add  ?) — but 
of  you  all,  to  whom  we  are  able  and  bound  to  be  subservient.” 
He  desires  not  to  be  free,  but  to  change  his  master.  Now 
we  whose  souls  are  lofty,  exalted,  and  intrenched  in  virtue, 
neither  can,  nor  ought  to  be  slaves.  Say  that  you  can  be  a 
slave,  since  indeed  you  can ; but  say  not  that  you  are  bound 
to  be  one,  for  no  man  is  bound  to  any  service,  unless  it  is 
disgraceful  not  to  render  it.  But  enough  of  this.  Now  let 
this  man  consider  if  he  can  be  a general,  when  reason  and 
truth  must  convince  him  that  he  is  not  so  much  as  a 
freeman. 


PARADOX  VI. 

THAT  THE  WISE  MAN  ALONE  IS  RICH. 

What  means  this  unbecoming  ostentation  in  making 
mention  of  your  money  V You  are  the  only  rich  man ! Im- 
mortal gods ! ought  I not  to  rejoice  that  I have  heard  and 
learned  something  ? You  the  only  rich  man ! What  if  you 
are  not  rich  at  all  ? What  if  you  even  are  a beggar  ? For 
whom  are  we  to  understand  to  be  a rich  man?  To  what 

^ This  paradox  is  addressed  to  Marcus  Crassus. 


284 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  VI. 


Mnd  of  a man  do  we  apply  the  term  ? To  the  man  as  I sup- 
pose, whose  possessions  are  such  that  he  may  be  well  con- 
tented to  live  liberally,  who  has  no  desire,  no  hankering 
after,  no  wish  for  more.  It  is  your  own  mind,  and  not  the 
talk  of  others,  nor  your  possessions,  that  must  pronounce 
you  to  be  rich ; for  it  ought  to  think  that  nothing  is  want- 
ing to  it,  and  care  for  nothing  beyond.  Is  it  satiated,  or 
even  contented  with  your  money  ? I admit  that  you  are 
rich ; but  if  for  the  greed  of  money  you  think  no  source  of 
profit  disgraceful  (though  your  order  can  not  make  any 
honest  profits),  if  you  every  day  are  cheating,  deceiving, 
craving,  jobbing,  poaching,  and  pilfering;  if  you  rob  the 
allies  and  plunder  the  treasury ; if  you  are  forever  longing 
for  the  bequests  of  friends,  or  not  even  waiting  for  them, 
but  forging  them  yourself,  are  such  practices  the  indications 
of  a rich  or  a needy  man?  It  is  the  mind,  and  not  the 
coffers  of  a man,  that  is  to  be  accounted  rich.  For  though 
the  latter  be  full,  when  I see  yourself  empty,  I shall  not 
think  you  rich ; because  men  measure  the  amount  of  riches 
by  that  which  is  sufficient  for  each  individual.  Has  a man 
a daughter  ? then  he  has  need  of  money.  But  he  has  two, 
then  he  ought  to  have  a greater  fortune ; he  has  more,  then 
he  ought  to  have  more  fortune  still;  and  if,  as  we  are  told 
of  Danaus,  he  has  fifty  daughters,  so  many  fortunes  require 
a great  estate.  For,  as  I said  before,  the  degree  of  wealth 
is  dependent  on  how  much  each  individual  has  need  of.  He 
therefore  who  has  not  a great  many  daughters,  but  innu- 
merable passions,  which  are  enough  to  consume  a very  great 
estate  in  a very  short  time,  how  can  I call  such  a man  rich, 
when  he  himself  is  conscious  that  he  is  poor?  Many  have 
heard  you  say,  that  no  man  is  rich  who  can  not  with  his  in- 
come maintain  an  army ; a thing  which  the  people  of  Rome 
some  time  ago,  with  their  so  great  revenues,  could  scarcely 
do.  Therefore,  according  to  your  maxim,  you  never  can  bo 
rich,  until  so  much  is  brought  in  to  you  from  your  estates, 
that  out  of  it  you  can  maintain  six  legions,  and  large  auxil- 
iaries of  horse  and  foot.‘  You  therefore,  in  fact,  confess 

1 “ It  will  be  found,”  says  Dr.  Johnson,  “on  a nearer  view,  that  those 
who  extol  the  happiness  of  poverty,  do  not  mean  the  same  state  with 
those  who  deplore  its  miseries.  Poets  have  their  imaginations  filled  with 
ideas  of  magnificence ; and,  being  accustomed  to  contemplate  the  down- 


PAR.  VL 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


285 


yourself  not  to  be  rich,  who  are  so  far  short  of  fulfilling  what 
you  desire  ; you,  therefore,  have  never  concealed  your  poverty, 
your  neediness,  and  your  beggary. 

For  as  we  see  that  they  who  make  an  honest  livelihood  by 
commerce,  by  industry,  by  farming  the  public  revenue,  have 
occasion  for  their  earnings;  so,  whoever  sees  at  your  house 
the  crowds  of  accusers  and  judges  together;  whoever  sees 
rich  and  guilty  criminals  plotting  the  corruption  of  trials 
with  you  as  their  adviser,  and  your  bargainings  for  pay  for 
the  distribution  of  patronage,  your  pecuniary  interventions 
in  the  contests  of  candidates,  your  dispatching  your  freed- 
men  to  fleece  and  plunder  the  provinces;  whoever  calls  to 
mind  your  dispossessing  your  neighbors,  your  depopulating 
the  country  by  your  oppressions,  your  confederacies  with 
slaves,  with  freedmen,  and  with  clients;  the  vacating  of  es- 
tates ; the  proscriptions  of  the  wealthy ; the  corporations  mas- 
sacred, and  the  harvest  of  the  times  of  Sylla;  the  wills  you 
have  forged,  and  the  many  men  you  have  made  away  with ; 
in  short,  that  all  things  were  venal  with  you  in  your  levies, 
your  decrees,  your  own  votes,  and  the  votes  of  others;  the 
forum,  your  house,  your  speaking,  and  your  silence ; who 
must  not  think  that  such  a man  confesses  he  has  occasion  for 
all  he  has  acquired?  But  who  can  truly  designate  him  as 
a rich  man  who  needs  all  his  earnings  ? For  the  advantage 
of  riches  consists  in  plenty,  and  this  plenty  declares  the 
overflow  and  abundance  of  the  means  of  life,  which,  as  you 
can  never  attain,  you  can  never  be  rich.  I shall  say  nothing 
of  myself,  because  as  you  (and  that  with  reason)  despise  my 
fortune — for  it  is  in  the  opinion  of  the  generality  middling, 
in  yours  next  to  nothing,  and  in  mine  sufiicient — I shall 
speak  to  the  subject.  Now  if  facts  are  to  be  weighed  and 
estimated  by  us,  whether  are  we  more  to  esteem — the  money 
of  Pyrrhus  w^hich  he  sent  to  Fabricius,  or  the  continency  of 
Fabricius  for  refusing  that  money? — ^the  gold  of  the  Sam- 
nites,  or  the  answer  of  Manius  Curius  ? — ^the  inheritance  of 
Lucius  Paulus,  or  the  generosity  of  Africanus,  who  gave 

fall  of  empires,  or  to  contrive  forms  of  lamentations  for  monarchs  in  dis- 
tress, rank  all  the  classes  of  mankind  in  a state  of  poverty  who  make  no 
approaches  to  the  dignity  of  crowns.  To  be  poor  in  the  epic  language 
is  only  not  to  command  the  wealth  of  nations,  and  to  have  fleets  and 
armies  to  pay.” — ^Rambler,  No.  202. 


286 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


PAR.  VI. 


to  his  brother  Quintus  his  own  part  of  that  inheritance  ? 
Surely  the  latter  evidences  of  consummate  virtue  are  more 
to  be  esteemed  than  the  former,  which  are  the  evidences  of 
wealth.  If,  therefore,  we  are  to  rate  every  man  rich  only  in 
proportion  to  the  valuable  things  he  possesses,  who  can  doubt 
that  riches  consist  in  virtue,  since  no  possession,  no  amount  of 
gold  and  silver,  is  more  to  be  valued  than  virtue  ? 

Immortal  gods ! Men  are  not  aware  how  great  a revenue 
is  parsimony ; for  I now  proceed  to  speak  of  extravagant 
men,  I take  my  leave  of  the  money-hunter.  The  revenue 
one  man  receives  from  his  estate  is  six  hundred  sestertia; 

I receive  one  hundred  from  mine.  To  that  man  who  has 

gilded  roofs  and  marble  pavements  in  his  villas,  and  who 
unboundedly  covets  statues,  pictures,  vestments,  and  fur- 
niture, his  income  is  insufficient,  not  only  for  his  expenditure, 
but  even  for  the  payment  of  his  interest;  while  there  will 

be  some  surplus  even  from  my  slender  income,  through 

cutting  off  the  expenses  of  voluptuousness.  Which,  then,  is 
the  richer,  he  who  has  a deficit,  or  he  who  has  a surplus  ? 
— ^he  who  is  in  need,  or  he  who  abounds  ? — the  man  whose 
estate,  the  greater  it  is,  requires  the  more  to  sustain  it,  or 
whose  estate  maintains  itself  by  its  own  resources 

But  why  do  I talk  of  myself,  who  through  the  contagion 

^ “ Riches  are  of  no  value  in  themselves,  their  use  is  discovered  only 
in  that  which  they  procure.  They  are  not  coveted  unless  by  narrow  un- 
derstandings, which  confound  the  means  with  the  end,  but  for  the  sake 
of  power,  influence,  and  esteem ; or  by  some  of  less  elevated  and  re- 
fined sentiments  as  necessary  to  sensual  enjoyment. 

‘‘  The  pleasures  of  luxury  many  have,  without  uncommon  virtue,  been 
able  to  despise,  even  when  affluence  and  idleness  have  concurred  to 
tempt  them  ; and  therefore  he  who  feels  nothing  from  indigence,  but  tho 
want  of  gratifications  which  he  could  not  in  any  other  condition  mako 
consistent  with  innocence,  has  given  no  proof  of  eminent  patience. 
Esteem  and  influence  every  man  desires,  but  they  are  equally  pleasing 
and  equally  valuable,  by  whatever  means  they  are  obtained ; and  who- 
ever has  found  the  art  of  securing  them  without  tho  help  of  money 
ought  in  reality  to  bo  accounted  rich,  since  he  has  all  that  riches  can 
purchase  to  a wise  man.  Cincinnatus,  though  he  lived  upon  a few  acres, 
cultivated  by  his  own  hand,  was  sufficiently  removed  from  all  the  evils 
generally  comprehended  under  the  name  of  poverty,  when  his  reputation 
was  such  that  the  voice  of  his  country  called  him  from  his  farm  to  take 
absolute  command  into  his  hand ; nor  was  Diogenes  much  mortified  by 
his  residence  in  a tub,  where  he  was  honored  with  the  visit  of  Alexander 
the  Great.” — The  Rambler,  No.  202. 


PAR.  VI. 


CICERO’S  PARADOXES. 


287 


of  fashion  and  of  the  times,  am  perhaps  a little  infected  with 
the  fault  of  the  age  ? In  the  memory  of  our  fathers,  Manius 
Manilius  (not  to  mention  continually  the  Curii  and  the  Lus- 
cinii)  at  length  became  poor ; for  he  had  only  a little  house 
at  Carani  and  a farm  near  Labicum.  Now  are  we,  because 
we  have  greater  possessions,  richer  men  ? I wish  we  were. 
But  the  amount  of  wealth  is  not  defined  by  the  valuation  of 
the  census,  but  by  habit  and  mode  of  life  ; not  to  be  greedy 
is  wealth ; not  to  be  extravagant  is  revenue.  Above  all 
things,  to  be  content  with  what  we  possess  is  the  greatest 
and  most  secure  of  riches.  If  therefore  they  who  are  the 
most  skillful  valuers  of  property  highly  estimate  fields  and 
certain  sites,  because  such  estates  are  the  least  liable  to 
injury,  how  much  more  valuable  is  virtue,  which  never 
can  be  wrested,  never  can  be  filched  from  us,  which  can  not 
be  lost  by  fire  or  by  shipwreck,  and  which  is  not  alienated 
by  the  convulsions  of  tempest  or  of  time,  with  which  those 
who  are  endowed  alone  are  rich,  for  they  alone  possess  re- 
sources which  are  profitable  and  eternal ; and  they  are  the 
only  men  who,  being  contented  with  what  they  possess,  think 
it  sufficient,  which  is  the  criterion  of  riches  : they  hanker 
after  nothing,  they  are  in  need  of  nothing,  they  feel  the  want 
of  nothing,  and  they  require  nothing.  As  to  the  unsatiable 
and  avaricious  part  of  mankind,  as  they  have  possessions 
liable  to  uncertainty,  and  at  the  mercy  of  chance,  they  who 
are  forever  thirsting  after  more,  and  of  whom  there  never  was 
a man  for  whom  what  he  had  sufficed ; they  are  so  far  from 
being  wealthy  and  rich,  that  they  are  to  be  regarded  as  neces^ 
sitous  and  beggared. 


THE 


VISION  OF  SCIPIO. 


SCIPIO  SPEAKS. 

When  I had  arrived  in  Africa  as  military  tribune  of  the 
fourth  legion,  as  you  know,  under  the  consul,  Lucius  Man- 
lius, nothing  was  more  delightful  to  me  than  having  an  in- 
terview with  Massinissa,  a prince  who,  for  good  reasons,  was 
most  friendly  to  our  family.  When  I arrived,  the  old  man 
shed  tears  as  lie  embraced  me.  Soon  after  he  raised  his 
eyes  up  to  heaven  and  said,  I thank  thee,  most  glorious  sun, 
and  ye  the  other  inhabitants  of  heaven,  that  before  I depart 
from  this  life,  I see  in  my  kingdom  and  under  this  roof, 
Publius  Cornelius  Scipio,  by  whose  very  name  I am  re- 
freshed, for  never  does  the  memory  of  that  greatest,  that  most 
invincible  of  men,  vanish  from  my  mind.  After  this  I informed 
myself  from  him  about  his  kingdom,  and  he  from  me  about 
our  government ; and  that  day  was  consumed  in  much  con- 
versation on  both  sides. 

Afterward,  having  been  entertained  with  royal  magnifi- 
cence, we  prolonged  our  conversation  to  a late  hour  of  the 
night ; while  the  old  man  talked  of  nothing  but  of  Africanus, 
and  remembered  not  only  all  his  actions,  but  all  his  sayings. 
Then,  when  we  departed  to  bed,  owing  to  my  journey  and 
my  sitting  up  to  a late  hour,  a sleep  sounder  than  ordinary 
came  over  me.  In  this  (I  suppose  fi’ora  the  subject  on 
which  we  had  been  talking,  for  it  commonly  happens  that 
our  thoughts  and  conversations  beget  something  analogous 
in  our  sleep,  just  as  Ennius  writes  about  Homer,  of  whom 
assuredl}^,  he  was  accustomed  most  frequently  to  think  and 


THE  VISION  OF  SCIPIO. 


2S9 


talk  when  awake)/  Africanus  presented  himself  to  me  in  that 
form  which  was  more  known  from  his  statue  than  from  his 
own  person.  - " • 

No  sooner  did  I know  him  than  I shuddered.  Drav/ 
near  (said  he),  with  confidence,  lay  aside  your  dread,  and 
commit  what  I say  to  your  memory.  . You  see  that  city, 
which  by  me  was  forced  to  submit  to  the  people  of  Komo, 
but  is  now  renewing  its  former  wars,  and  can  not  remain  at 
l)eace  (he  spoke  these  words  pointing  to  Carthage  ftom  an 
eminence  that  was  full  of  stars,  bright  and  glorious),  Tvhich 
you  are  now  come,  before  you  are  a complete  soldier,^  to  at- 
tack. Within  two  years  you  shall  be  consul,  and  shall  over- 
throw it ; and  you  shall  acquire  for  yourself  that  surname 
that  you  now  wear,  as  bequeathed  by  me.^  After  you  have 

1 “I  believe  that  dreams  are  uniformly  the  resuscitation  or  re-embodi- 
ment of  thoughts  which  have  formerly,  in  some  shape  or  other,  occupied 
the  mind.  They  are  old  ideas  revived,  either  in  an  entire  state,  or  hete- 
rogeneously mingled  together.  I doubt  if  it  be  possible  for  a person  to 
have  in  a dream  any  idea  whose  elements  did  not  in  some  form  strike 
him  at  a previous  period.  If  these  break  loose  from  their  connecting 
chain,  and  become  jumbled  together  incoherently,  as  is  often  the  case, 
they  give  rise  to  absurd  combinations ; but  the  elements  still  subsist, 
and  only  manifest  themselves  in  a new  and  unconnected  shape^  Dreams 
generally  arise  without  any  assignable  cause,  but  sometimes  we  can  very 
readily  discover  their  origin.  Whatever  has  much  interested  us  during 
the  day  is  apt  to  resolve  itself  into  a dream,  and  this  will  generally  bo 
pleasurable  or  the  reverse,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  exciting  cause. 
If,  for  instance,  our  reading  or  conversation  be  of  horrible  subjects,  such 
as  specters,  murders,  or  conflagrations,  they  will  appear  before  us  mag- 
nified and  heightened  in  our  dreams.  Or  if  we  have  been  previously 
sailing  upon  a rough  sea,  we  are  apt  to  suppose  ourselves  undergoing 
the  perils  of  shipwreck.  Pleasurable  sensations  during  the  day  are  also 
apt  to  assume  a still  more  pleasurable  aspect  in  dreams.  In  like  manner, 
if  we  have  a longing  for  anything,  we  are  apt  to  suppose  that  we  possess 
it.  Even  objects  altogether  unattainable  are  placed  within  our  reach : 
we  achieve  impossibilities,  and  triumph  with  ease  over  the  invincible 
laws  of  nature.” — Macnish’s  Philosophy  of  Sleep,  chap.  3. 

2 Soldier.  The  original  is  nunr  venis  pcBne  Miles^  because  Scipio  was 
then  only  a young  man  and  one  of  the  military  tribunes,  which  post  was 
looked  upon  as  only  a kind  of  cadetship  which  they  went  through  beforo 
they  could  be  generals. 

3 “ Dreams  have  been  looked  upon  by  some  as  the  occasional  means 
of  giving  us  an  insight  into  futurity.  This  opinion  is  so  singularly  un- 
philosophical  that  I would  not  have  noticed  it,  were  it  not  advocated 
even  by  persons  of  good  sense  and  education.  In  ancient  times  it  was 
BO  common  as  to  obtain  universal  belief ; and  the  greatest  men  placed  as 

13 


290 


THE  VISION  OE  SCIPIO. 


destroyed  Carthage,  performed  a triumph,  and  been  censor ; 
after,  in  the  capacity  of  legate,  you  have  visited  Egypt,  Syria, 
Asia,  and  Greece,  you  shall,  in  your  absence,  be  chosen  a 
second  time  consul ; then  you  shall  finish  a most  dreadful 
war,  and  utterly  destroy  Numantia.  But  when  you  shall  be 
borne  into  the  capitol  in  your  triumphal  chariot,  you  shall  find 
the  government  thrown  into  confusion  by  the  machinations 
of  my  grandson  and  here,  my  Africanus,  you  must  display 
to  your  country  the  luster  of  your  spirit,  genius,  and  wisdom. 

“ But  at  this  period  I perceive  that  the  path  of  your  destiny 
is  a doubtful  one ; for  when  your  life  has  passed  through 
seven  times  eight^  oblique  journeys  and  returns  of  the  sun ; 

implicit  faith  in  it  as  in  any  fact  of  which  their  own  senses  afiforded  them 
cognizance.  That  it  is  wholly  erroneous,  however,  can  not  be  doubted ; 
and  any  person  who  examines  the  nature  of  the  human  mind  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  operates  in  dreams,  must  be  convinced  that  under  no 
circumstances,  except  those  of  a miracle,  in  which  the  ordinary  laws  of 
nature  are  triumphed  over,  can  such  an  event  ever  take  place.  The  sacred 
writings  testify  that  miracles  were  common  in  former  times,  but  I believe 
no  man  of  sane  mind  will  contend  that  they  ever  occur  in  the  present 
state  of  the  world.  In  judging  of  things  as  now  constituted,  we  must 
discard  supernatural  influence  altogether,  and  estimate  events  according 
to  the  general  laws  which  the  great  Ruler  of  nature  has  appointed  for 
the  guidance  of  the  universe.  If  in  the  present  day  it  were  possible  t(? 
conceive  a suspension  of  these  laws,  it  must,  as  in  former  ages,  be  in 
reference  to  some  great  event  and  to  serve  some  mighty  purpose  con- 
nected with  the  general  interests  of  the  human  race ; but  if  faith  is  to  be 
placed  in  modern  miracles,  we  must  suppose  that  God  suspended  the 
above  laws  for  the  most  trivial  and  useless  of  purposes.  At  the  same 
time  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  many  circumstances  occurring  in  our 
dreams  have  been  actually  verifled ; but  this  must  be  regarded  as  alto- 
gether the  effect  of  chance ; and  for  one  dream  which  turns  out  to  be 
true,  at  least  a thousand  are  false.  In  fact,  it  is  only  when  they  are  of 
the  former  description,  that  we  take  any  notice  of  them,  the  latter  are 
looked  upon  as  mere  idle  vagaries,  and  speedily  forgotten.” — Macnish’s 
Philosophy  of  Sleep,  chap.  4. 

Speaking  of  uninspired  prophecy.  Lord  Bacon  says : “ There  are  num- 
bers of  the  like  kind ; especially  if  you  include  dreams  and  predictions 
of  astrology,  but  I have  set  down  these  few  only  of  certain  credit  for  ex- 
ample. My  judgment  is,  that  they  ought  all  to  be  despised,  and  ought 
to  serve  but  for  winter  talk  by  the  fireside.” 

1 “ Grandson.  Meaning  Tiberius  Gracchus  or  his  brother ; their  mother 
was  daughter  to  the  elder  Africanus.  I can  not  help  being  of  opinion 
that  Virgil  took  from  this  vision  his  first  hint  of  the  discourse  which  ho 
introduces  in  the  sixth  book  of  the  .^neid,  between  ^neas  and  his 
father.” — Guthrie. 

“ Seven  times  eight  times.  The  critics  and  commentators  have  been 


THE  VISION  OF  SCIPIO. 


291 


and  when  these  two  numbers  (each  of  which  is  regarded  as 
a complete  one — one  on  one  account  and  the  other  on 
another)  shall,  in  their  natural  circuit,  have  brought  you  to 
the  crisis  of  your  fate,  then  will  the  whole  state  turn  itself 
toward  thee  and  thy  glory;  the  senate,  all  virtuous  men, 
our  allies,  and  the  Latins,  shall  look  up  to  you.  Upon  your 
single  person  the  preservation  of  your  country  will  depend ; 
and,  in  short,  it  is  your  part,  as  dictator,  to  settle  the  gov- 
ernment, if  you  can  but  escape  the  impious  hands  of  your 
kinsmen.”  ^ — Here,  when  Lselius  uttered  an  exclamation, 
and  the  rest  groaned  with  great  excitement,  Scipio  said,  with 
a gentle  smile,  “ I beg  that  you  will  not  waken  me  out  of  my 
dream,  give  a little  time  and  listen  to  the  sequel. 

“But  that  you  may  be  more  earnest  in  the  defense  of 
your  country,  know  from  me,  that  a certain  place  in  heaven 
is  assigned  to  all  who  have  preserved,  or  assisted,  or  im- 
proved their  country,  where  they  are  to  enjoy  an  endless 
duration  of  happiness.^  For  there  is  nothing  which  takes 

very  profuse  of  their  learning  in  explaining  this  passage.  But  since  the 
doctrine  of  numbers,  and  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  have  been 
so  well  understood,  it  is  a learning  of  a very  useless  nature.  The  sum 
of  what  they  tell  us  is,  that  the  numbers  seven  and  eight  are  complete 
numbers,  and  when  multiplied  into  one  another  produce  fifty-six,  which 
is  one  of  the  climacterics  of  human  life.  The  reasons  they  give  for  all 
this  are  so  many  and  so  fanciful,  that  though  they  are  strengthened  with 
the  greatest  names  of  antiquity,  it  can  be  of  very  little  use  for  a modern 
reader  to  know  them.  ” — Guthrie. 

1 “There  scarce  can  be  a doubt  that  this  passage  was  in  Virgil’s  eye, 
when  he  makes  Anchises  break  out  in  that  beautiful  exclamation  in  the 
sixth  book  of  the  ^neid  concerning  Marcellus. 

‘ Heu  miserande  puer  si  qua  fata  aspera  rumpas, 

Tu  Marcellus  eris.’  ” — Guthrie. 

2 It  seems  to  have  strongly  entered  into  the  expectations  of  those 

eminent  sages  of  antiquity  who  embraced  the  doctrine  of  the  soul’s  im- 
mortality, that  the  felicity  of  the  next  life  will  partly  arise,  not  only  from 
a renewal  of  those  virtuous  connections  which  have  been  formed  in  the 
present,  but  from  conversing  at  large  with  that  whole  glorious  assembly 
whom  the  poet  hath  so  justly  brought  together,  in  his  description  of  the 
mansions  of  the  blessed : The — 

“ Manus  ob  patriam  pugnando  vulnora  passi, 

Quique  sacerdotes  casti,  dum  vita  manebat, 

Quique  pii  vates,  et  Phoebo  digna  locuti, 

Inventas  aut  qui  vitam  excoluere  per  artes 
Quique  sui  memores  alios  fecere  merendo.” 

Virg.  JEn.  vi.  G64. 


292 


THE  yiSIOH  OF  SCIPIO. 


place  on  earth  more  acceptable  to  that  Supreme  Deity  who 
governs  all  this  world,  than  those  councils  and  assemblies  of 
men  bound  together  by  law,  which  are  termed  states ; the 
governors  and  preservers  of  these  go  from  hence,  ^ and  hither 
do  they  return.’’  Here,  frightened  as  I was,  not  so  much 
from  the  dread  of  death  as  of  the  treachery  of  my  friends,  I 
nevertheless  asked  him  whether  my  father  Paulus,  and  others, 
whom  we  thought  to  be  dead,  were  yet  alive  ? “ To  be  sure 

they  are  alive  (replied  Africanus),  for  they  have  escaped 
from  the  fetters  of  the  body  as  from  a prison ; that  which  is 
called  your  life  is  really  death.  But  behold  your  father 

Paulus  approaching  you.” — No  sooner  did  I see  him  than  I 
poured  forth  a flood  of  tears ; but  he,  embracing  and  kissing 
me,  forbade  me  to  weep.  And  when,  having  suppressed  my 
tears,  I began  first  to  be  able  to  speak,  “ why  (said  I),  thou 
most  sacred  and  excellent  father,  since  this  is  life,  as  I hear 
Africanus  afiirm,  why  do  I tarry  on  earth,  and  not  hasten  to 
come  to  you  ?” 

“ Patriots  who  perished  for  their  country’s  right, 

Or  nobly  triumphed  in  the  field  of  fight, 

There  holy  priests  and  sacred  poets  stood, 

Who  sung  with  all  the  raptures  of  a god ; 

Worthies,  who  life  by  useful  arts  refined. 

With  those  who  leave  a deathless  name  behind. 

Friends  of  the  world,  and  fathers  of  mankind.” — Pitt’s  translation. 

^ “ Plato,  in  the  dialogue  entitled  ‘Phsedo,’  represents  Socrates  on  the 
morning  of  his  execution,  as  holding  a conversation  with  his  friends,  on 
the  soul’s  immortality,  in  which,  among  other  arguments,  he  endeavors 
to  establish  the  doctrine  of  the  soul’s  future  existence,  upon  the  principle 
of  its  having  existed  before  its  union  with  the  body.  This  was  attempt- 
ing to  support  the  truth  of  the  hypothesis  in  question,  by  resting  it  on 
another  altogether  conjectural  and  precarious.  But  these  two  proposi- 
tions, though  totally  distinct  from,  and  unconnected  with  each  other,  were 
held  by  all  the  ancient  philosophers  who  maintained  the  future  perman- 
ency of  the  soul,  to  have  a mutual  dependence,  and  necessarily  to  stand 
or  fall  together.  For,  as  they  raised  their  arguments  for  the  soul’s  im- 
mortality chiefly  on  metaphysical  ground ; they  clearly  perceive,  as  the 
very  learned  Cudworth  observes,  If  it  were  once  granted  that  the  soul 
was  generated,  it  could  never  be  proved  but  it  might  also  be  corrupted.* 
Reasonings  of  this  kind,  indeed,  are  generally  more  specious  than  satisfac- 
tory ; and  perhaps,  every  sensible  reader,  after  perusing  what  the  most 
acute  metaphysicians  have  written  on  this  important  article,  will  find  him- 
self not  very  far  from  the  same  state  of  mind  as  Cicero’s  Tusculan  disciple 
was  after  reading  Plato ; ‘ nescio  quomodo,’  says  ho,  ‘ dum  lego  assenti- 
or ; cum  posui  librum,  assonsio  omnis  ilia  elabitur.’  ” — Melmoth. 


THE  yiSIOH  OF  SCIPIO. 


293 


“ Not  so,  my  son  (he  replied) ; unless  that  God,  whose 
temple  is  all  this  which  you  behold,  shall  free  you  from  this 
imprisonment  in  the  body,  you  can  have  no  admission  to  this 
place  ,•  for  men  have  been  created  under  this  condition,  that 
they  should  keep  that  globe  which  you  see  in  the  middle  of 
this  temple,  and  which  is  called  the  earth.  And  a soul  has 
been  supplied  to  them  from  those  eternal  fires  which  you 
call  constellations  and  stars,  and  which,  being  globular  and 
round,  are  animated  with  divine  spirit,  and  complete  their 
cycles  and  revolutions  with  amazing  rapidity.  Therefore  you, 
my  Publius,  and  all  good  men,  must  preserve  your  souls 
in  the  keeping  of  your  bodies;  nor  are  you,  without  the 
order  of  that  Being  who  bestowed  them  upon  you,  to  depart 
from  mundane  life,  lest  you  seem  to  desert  the  duty  of  a 
man,  which  has  been  assigned  you  by  God.^  Therefore, 

Scipio,  like  your  grandfather  here,  and  me  who  begot  you, 
cultivate  justice  and  piety ; which,  while  it  should  be  great 
toward  your  parents  and  relations,  should  be  greatest  to- 
ward your  country.^  Such  a life  is  the  path  to  heaven  and 
the  assembly  of  those  who  have  lived  before,  and  who, 
having  been  released  from  their  bodies,  inhabit  that  place 
which  thou  beholdest.”  ® 

^ This  sentiment,  in  reprehension  of  the  practice  of  suicide,  has  been 
previously  noticed  in  the  notes  on  Cicero’s  Treatises  on  Friendship  and 
Old  Age,  where  he  states  that  this  particular  illustration  is  taken  from 
Pythagoras.  It  has  in  it  far  more  of  Christian  philosophy  than  is  to  bo 
found  in  the  reasonings  of  many  modern  moralists. 

2 “ The  love  of  our  country  has  often  been  found  to  be  a deceitful 
principle,  as  its  direct  tendency  is  to  set  the  interests  of  one  division  of 
mankind  in  opposition  to  another,  and  to  establish  a preference  built  upon 
accidental  relations  and  not  upon  reason.  Much  of  what  has  been  un- 
derstood by  the  appellation  is  excellent ; but,  perhaps,  nothing  that  can 
be  brought  within  the  strict  interpretation  of  the  phrase.  A wise  and 
weU-informed  man  will  not  fail  to  be  the  votary  of  liberty  and  justice. 
He  will  be  ready  to  exert  himself  in  their  defense  wherever  they  exist. 
It  can  not  be  a matter  of  indifference  to  him  when  his  own  liberty  and 
that  of  other  men,  with  whose  merits  and  capacities  he  has  the  best  op- 
portunity of  being  acquainted,  are  involved  in  the  event  of  the  struggle 
to  be  made ; but  his  attachment  will  be  to  the  cause,  as  the  cause  of 
man  and  not  to  the  country.  Wherever  there  are  individuals  who  un- 
derstand the  value  of  political  justice,  and  are  prepared  to  assert  it,  that 
is  his  country ; wherever  he  can  most  contribute  to  the  diffusion  of  these 
principles,  and  the  real  happiness  of  mankind,  that  is  his  country.  Nor 
does  he  desire  for  any  country,  any  other  benefit  than  justice.” — God^ 
win’s  Political  Justice,  book  v.  chap.  16. 

® So  Yirgil,  “ Macte  tua  virtute,  puer,  sic  itur  ad  astra.” 


294 


THE  YISIOH  OF  SCIPIO. 


Now  the  place  my  father  spoke  of  was  a radiant  circle  of 
dazzling  brightness  amid  the  flamiDg  bodies,  which  you,  as 
you  have  learned  from  the  Greeks,  term  the  Milky  Way ; 
from  which  position  all  other  objects  seemed  to  me,  as  I sur- 
veyed them,  marvelous  and  glorious.  There  were  stars 
which  we  never  saw  from  this  place,  and  their  magnitudes 
were  such  as  we  never  imagined ; the  smallest  of  which  was 
that  which,  placed  upon  the  extremity  of  the  heavens,  but 
nearest  to  the  earth,  shone  with  borrowed  light.  But  the 
globular  bodies  of  the  stars  greatly  exceeded  the  magnitude 
of  the  earth,  which  now  to  me  appeared  so  small,  that  I was 
grieved  to  see  our  empire  contracted,  as  it  were,  into  a very 
point.^ 

Which,  while  I was  too  eagerly  gazing  on,  Africanus  said. 

How  long  will  your  attention  be  fixed  upon  the  earth  ? 
Do  you  not  see  into  what  temples  you  have  entered  ? All 
things  are  connected  by  nine  circles,  or  rather  spheres ; one 
of  which  (which  is  the  outermost)  is  heaven,  and  compre- 
hends all  the  rest,  (inhabited  by)  that  all-powerful  God, 
who  bounds  and  controls  the  others ; and  in  this  sphere 
reside  the  original  principles  of  those  endless  revolutions 
which  the  planets  perform.  Within  this  are  contained  seven 
other  spheres,  that  turn  round  backward,  that  is,  in  a con- 
trary direction  to  that  of  the  heaven.  Of  these,  that  planet 
which  on  earth  you  call  Saturn,  occupies  one  sphere.  That 
shining  body  which  you  see  next  is  called  Jupiter,  and  is 
friendly  and  salutary  to  mankind.  Next  the  lucid  one,  ter- 
rible to  the  earth,  which  you  call  Mars.  The  Sun  holds  the 
next  place,  almost  under  the  middle  region ; he  is  the  chief, 
the  leader,  and  the  director  of  the  other  luminaries ; he  is 
the  soul  and  guide  of  the  world,  and  of  such  immense  bulk, 
that  he  illuminates  and  fills  all  other  objects  with  his  light. 
He  is  followed  by  the  orbit  of  Venus,  and  that  of  Mercury, 
as  attendants ; and  the  Moon  rolls  in  the  lowest  sphere,  en- 
lightened by  the  rays  of  the  Sun.  Below  this  there  is 
nothing  but  what  is  mortal  and  transitory,  excepting  those 

^ If  we  compare  this  passage  with  the  fortieth  chapter  of  the  Prophe- 
sies of  Isaiah,  and  also  the  fourth  eclogue  of  Virgil,  with  other  parts  of 
the  same  prophesy,  we  shall  find  it  difficult  to  believe  that  that  inspired 
book  had  not  in  part  or  wholly  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Romans 
as  early  as  the  ago  of  Cicero. 


THE  VISION  OP  SCIPIO. 


295 


souls  which  are  given  to  the  human  race  by  the  goodness  of 
the  gods.  Whatever  lies  above  the  Moon  is  eternal.  For 
the  earth,  which  is  the  ninth  sphere,  and  is  placed  in  the 
center  of  the  whole  system,  is  immovable  and  below  all  the 
rest;  and  all  bodies,  by  their  natural  gravitation,  tend  to- 
ward it.” 

Which  as  I was  gazing  at  in  amazement  I said,  as  I 
recovered  myself,  from  whence  proceed  these  sounds  so 
strong,  and  yet  so  sweet,  that  fill  my  ears  ? ‘‘  The  melody 

(replies  he)  which  you  hear,  and  which,  though  composed 
in  unequal  time,  is  nevertheless  divided  into  regular  har- 
mony, is  effected  by  the  impulse  and  motion  of  the  spheres 
themselves,  which,  by  a happy  temper  of  sharp  and  grave 
notes,  regularly  produces  various  harmonic  effects.  Now  it 
is  impossible  that  such  prodigious  movements  should  pass  in 
silence ; and  nature  teaches  that  the  sounds  which  the 
spheres  at  one  extremity  utter  must  be  sharp,  and  those  on 
the  other  extremity  must  be  grave  ; on  which  account,  that 
highest  revolution  of  the  star-studded  heaven,  whose  motion 
is  more  rapid,  is  carried  on  with  a sharp  and  quick  sound ; 
whereas  this  of  the  moon,  which  is  situated  the  lowest,  and 
at  the  other  extremity,  moves  with  the  gravest  sound.  For 
the  earth,  the  ninth  sphere,  remaining  motionless,  abides  in- 
variably in  the  innermost  position,  occupying  the  central 
spot  in  the  universe. 

“ Now  these  eight  directions,  two  of  which^  have  the  same 
powers,  effect  seven  sounds,  differing  in  their  modulations, 
which  number  is  the  connecting  principle  of  almost  all 
things.  Some  learned  men,  by  imitating  this  harmony  with 
strings  and  vocal  melodies,  have  opened  a way  for  their  re- 
turn to  this  place  ; as  all  others  have  done,  who,  endued 
with  pre-eminent  qualities,  have  cultivated  in  their  mortal 
life  the  pursuits  of  heaven. 

“ The  ears  of  mankind,  filled  with  these  sounds,  have  be- 
come deaf,  for  of  all  your  senses  it  is  the  most  blunted.^  Thus, 

1 Mercury  and  Venus  are  the  planets  here  referred  to. 

2 The  idea  of  the  music  of  the  spheres  has  embellished  the  composi- 
tions of  many  poets,  both  ancient  and  modern.  One  passage,  however, 
in  the  pages  of  Shakespeare  appears  to  have  been  suggested  by  this  part 
of  the  writings  of  Cicero.  It  is  as  follows : — 

“ Sit,  Jessica,  see  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold ; 


296 


THE  YISIOH  OF  SCIPIO. 


tlie  people  who  live  near  the  place  where  the  Nile  rushes 
down  from  very  high  mountains  to  the  parts  which  are 
called  Catadupa,  are  destitute  of  the  sense  of  hearing,  by 
reason  of  the  greatness  of  the  noise.  Now  this  sound,  which 
is  effected  by  the  rapid  rotation  of  the  whole  system  of 
nature,  is  so  powerful  that  human  hearing  can  not  compre- 
hend it,  just  as  you  cannot  look  directly  upon  the  sun,  because 
your  sight  and  sense  are  overcome  by  his  beams.” 

Though  admiring  these  scenes,  yet  I still  continued  direct- 
ing my  eyes  in  the  same  direction  toward  the  earth.  On 
this  Africanus  said,  “ I perceive  that  even  now  you  are  con- 
templating the  abode  and  home  of  the  human  race.^  And 
as  this  appears  to  you  diminutive,  as  it  really  is,^  fix  your 
regard  upon  these  celestial  scenes,  and  despise  those  abodes 

There  is  not  a single  star  which  thou  beholdest 
But  in  its  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 

Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim. 

Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls : 

But  while  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  us  in,  we  can  not  hear  it.’^ 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

1 “ If  minds  in  general  are  not  made  to  be  strongly  affected  by  the 
phenomena  of  the  earth  and  heavens ; they  are,  however,  all  subject  to 
be  powerfully  influenced  by  the  appearances  and  character  of  the  human 
world.  I suppose  a child  in  Switzerland,  growing  up  to  a man,  would 
have  acquired  incomparably  more  of  the  cast  of  his  mind  from  the  events, 
manners,  and  actions  of  the  next  village,  though  its  inhabitants  were  but 
his  occasional  companions,  than  from  all  the  mountain  scenes,  the  cata- 
racts, and  every  circumstance  of  beauty  or  sublimity  in  nature  around 
him.  We  are  all  true  to  our  species,  and  very  soon  feel  its  importance 
to  us  (though  benevolence  be  not  the  basis  of  the  interest),  far  beyond 
the  importance  of  any  thing  that  we  can  see  beside.  Beginning  your 
observation  with  children,  you  may  have  noted  how  instantly  they  will 
turn  their  attention  away  from  any  of  the  aspects  of  nature,  however 
rare  or  striking,  if  human  objects  present  themselves  to  view  in  any  act- 
ive manner.” — John  Foster,  Essay  I. 

^ “ Is  it  for  no  purpose  that  the  human  eye  is  permitted  to  traverse 
the  immensity  of  space  ? or  is  it  with  no  moral  intention  that  now  at 
length,  and  after  five  thousand  years  of  labor  and  conjecture,  a true  no- 
tion of  the  material  universe -has  been  attained  and  has  become  diffused 
among. all  r^pks  in  every  civilized  community?:  At  last^  ariid  in  these 
times,  mail  knows  , his  place  in  the  heavens,  and  is  taught  to  think  jusfiy 
of  the  relative  importance  of  the  planet  which  has  given  him  birtl,i. 
During  a long  course  of  centuries,  it  was  td  little  purpose,  or  to  little  in 
relation  to  man,  that  the  emanations  of  light  had  passed  and  re-passed 
from  side  to  sidp  of  the  universe ; for  until  of  late,,  that  is  to  say,  the  last 


THE  YISIOH  OF  SCIPIO. 


297 


of  men.  What  celebrity  are  you  able  to  attain  to  in  the  dis- 
course of  men,  or  what  glory  that  ought  to  be  desired  ? You 
perceive  that  men  dwell  on  but  few  and  scanty  portions  of 
the  earth,  and  that  amid  these  spots,  as  it  were,  vast  soli- 
tudes are  interposed ! As  to  those  who  inhabit  the  earth, 
not  only  are  they  so  separated  that  no  communication  can 
circulate  among  them  from  the  one  to  the  other,  but  part  lie 
upon  one  side,  part  upon  another,  and  part  are  diametrically 
opposite  to  you,  from  whom  you  assuredly  can  expect  no 
glory. 

You  are  now  to  observe  that  the  same  earth  is  encircled 
and  encompassed  as  it  were  by  certain  zones,  of  which  the 
two  that  are  most  distant  from  one  another,  and  lie  as  it 
were  toward  the  vortexes  of  the  heavens  in  both  directions, 
are  rigid  as  you  see  with  frost,  while  the  middle  and  the 
largest  zone  is  burned  up  with  the  heat  of  the  sun.  Two  of 
these  are  habitable ; of  which  the  southern,  whose  inhabit- 
ants imprint  their  footsteps  in  an  opposite  direction  to  you, 
have  no  relation  to  your  race.  As  to  this  other,  lying  to- 
ward the  north,  which  you  inhabit,  observe  what  a small 
portion  of  it  falls  to  your  share ; for  all  that  part  of  the 
earth  which  is  inhabited  by  you,  which  narrows  toward  the 
south  and  north, ^ but  widens  from  east  to  west,  is  no  other 
than  a little  island  surrounded  by  that  sea  which  on  earth 
you  call  the  Atlantic,  sometimes  the  great  sea,  and  some- 
times the  ocean ; and  yet  with  so  grand  a name,  you  see  how 
diminutive  it  is ! Now  do  you  think  it  possible  for  your  re- 
nown, or  that  of  any  one  of  us,  to  move  from  those  cultivated 
and  inhabited  spots  of  ground,  and  pass  beyond  that  Cau- 
casus, or  swim  across  yonder  Ganges  f What  inhabitant  of 

three  centuries,  it  was  not  certainly  known  whether  this  earth  (itself 
unexplored),  were  not  the  only  scene  of  life,  and  whether  the  sun,  the 
stars,  and  the  planets  were  any  thing  more  than  brilliants  floating  in  an 
upper  ether.” — ^Taylor’s  Physical  Theory  of  Another  Life,  chap.  15. 

^ Which  narrows  toward  the  south  and  norths  etc.  This  is  a very  curi- 
ous passage,  and  if  our  author’s  interpreters  are  to  be  believed,  he  was 
acquainted  with  the  true  figure  of  the  earth,  a discovery  which  is  gene- 
rally thought  to  have  been  reserved  for  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  and  to  have 
been  confirmed  by  some  late  experiments ; but  I own  I am  not  without 
some  doubts  as  to  our  author’s  meaning,  whether  he  does  not  here  speak, 
not  of  the  whole  face  of  the  earth,  but  of  that  part  of  it  which  was  pos- 
sessed or  conquered  by  the  Romans. — Guthrie. 

“ What  might  be,”  says  Dr.  Johnson,  after  quoting  this  passage, 
13^ 


298 


THE  YISIOH  OF  SCIPIO. 


the  other  parts  of  the  east,  or  of  the  extreme  regions  of  the 
setting  sun,  of  those  tracts  that  run  toward  the  south  or 
toward  the  north,  shall  ever  hear  of  your  name  ? Now  sup- 
posing them  cut  off‘,  you  see  at  once  within  what  narrow 
limits  your  glory  would  fain  expand  itself.  As  to  those  who 
speak  of  you,  how  long  will  they  speak  ? 

Let  me  even  suppose  that  a future  race  of  men  shall  be 
desirous  of  transmitting  to  their  posterity  your  renown  or 
mine,  as  they  received  it  from  their  fathers ; yet  when  we 
consider  the  convulsions  and  conflagrations  that  must  neces- 
sarily happen  at  some  deflnite  period,  we  are  unable  to  attain 
not  only  to  an  eternal,  but  even  to  a lasting  fame.^  Now  of 

“ the  effect  of  these  observations  conveyed  in  Ciceronian  eloquence  to 
Boman  understandings,  can  not  be  determined  ; but  few  of  those,  who 
shall  in  the  present  age  read  my  humble  version  wiU  find  themselves 
much  depressed  in  their  hopes  or  retarded  in  their  design  ; for  I am  not 
inclined  to  believe  that  they  who  among  us  pass  their  lives  in  the  culti- 
vation of  knowledge  or  acquisition  of  power,  have  very  anxiously  inquired 
what  opinions  prevail  on  the  further  banks  of  the  Ganges,  or  invigorated 
any  effort  by  the  desire  of  spreading  their  renown  among  the  clans  of 
Caucasus.  The  hopes  and  fears  of  modern  minds  are  content  to  range 
in  a narrower  compass ; a single  nation  and  a few  years,  have  generally 
sufficient  amplitude  to  fill  our  imaginations.  A little  consideration  will 
indeed  teach  us  that  fame  has  other  limits  than  mountains  and  oceans, 
and  that  he  who  places  happiness  in  the  frequent  repetition  of  his  name, 
may  spend  his  life  in  propagating  it,  without  any  danger  of  weeping  for 
new  worlds,  or  necessity  of  passing  the  Atlantic  sea. 

“ TfJ  therefore,  he  that  imagines  the  world  filled  with  his  actions  and 
praises,  shall  subduct  from  the  number  of  his  encomiast,  all  those  -who 
are  placed  below  the  flight  of  fame,  and  who  hear  in  the  valleys  of  life 
no  voice  but  that  of  necessity ; all  those  who  imagine  themselves  too 
important  to  regard  him,  and  consider  the  mention  of  his  name  as  a 
usurpation  of  their  time ; all  who  are  too  much  or  too  little  pleased  with 
themselves  to  attend  to  any  thing  external ; all  who  are  attracted  by 
pleasure,  or  chained  down  by  pain  to  unvaried  ideas ; all  who  are  with- 
held from  attending  his  triumph  by  different  pursuits ; and  all  who  slum- 
ber in  universal  negligence,  he  will  find  his  renown  straitened  by  nearer 
bounds  than  the  rocks  of  Caucasus,  and  perceive  that  no  man  can  bo 
venerable,  or  formidable,  but  to  a small  part  of  his  fellow-creatures. 

“ That  we  may  not  languish  in  our  endeavors  after  excellenee,  it  is 
necessary  that,  as  Africanus  counsels  his  descendants,  ‘ we  raise  our  eyes 
to  higher  prospects,  and  contemplate  our  future  and  eternal  state,  with- 
out giving  up  our  hearts  to  the  praise  of  crowds,  or  fixing  our  hopes  on 
Buch  rewards  as  human  power  can  bestow.” — Bambler,  No.  118. 

^ “ Lastly,  leaving  the  vulgar  arguments  that  by  learning  man  excell- 
eth  man  in  that  wherein  man  excelleth  beasts ; that  by  learning  man 
ascendeth  to  the  heavens,  and  their  motions,  whero  in  body  he  can  not 


THE  VISION  OF  SCIPIO. 


200 


wiiat  consequence  is  it  to  you  to  be  talked  of  by  those  who 
are  born  after  you,  and  not  by  those  who  were  born  before 
you,  who  certainly  were  as  numerous  and  more  virtuous; 
especially,  as  among  the  very  men  who  are  thus  to 
celebrate  our  renown,  not  a single  one  can  preserve  the 
recollections  of  a single  year  ? For  mankind  ordinarily 
measure  their  year  by  the  revolution  of  the  sun,  that  is  of  a 
single  heavenly  body.  But  when  all  the  planets  shall  return 
to  the  same  position  which  they  once  had,  and  bring  back 
after  a long  rotation  the  same  aspect  of  the  entire  heavens, 
then  the  year  may  be  said  to  be  truly  completed  ; in  which  I 
do  not  venture  to  say  how  many  ages  of  mankind  will  be 
contained.  For,  as  of  old,  Avhen  the  spirit  of  Komulus 

come,  and  the  like ; let  us  conclude  with  the  dignity  and  excellency  of 
knowledge  and  learning  in  that  whereunto  man’s  nature  doth  most  as- 
pire, which  is  immortality  or  continuance.  For  to  this  tendeth  genera- 
tion, and  raising  of  houses  and  families ; to  this  buildings,  foundations, 
and  monuments ; to  this  tendeth  the  desire  of  memory,  fame  and  cele- 
bration, and  in  effect  the  strength  of  all  other  human  desires.  We  see, 
then,  how  far  the  monuments  of  wit  and  learning  are  more  durable  than 
the  monuments  of  power,  or  of  the  hands.  For  have  not  the  verses  of 
Homer  continued  twenty-five  hundred  years  or  more,  without  the  loss 
of  a syllable  or  letter,  during  which  time  infinite  palaces,  temples,  castles, 
cities,  have  been  decayed  and  demolished  ? It  is  not  possible  to  have 
the  true  pictures  of  statues  of  Cyrus,  Alexander,  Caesar,  no,  nor  of  the 
kings  or  great  personages  of  much  later  years ; for  the  originals  can  not 
last,  and  the  copies  can  not  but  lose  of  the  life  and  truth.  But  the  im- 
ages of  men’s  wits  and  knowledge  remain  in  books  exempted  from  the 
wrong  of  time,  and  capable  of  perpetual  renovation.  Neither  are  they 
fitly  to  be  called  images,  because  they  generate  still,  and  cast  their  seeds 
in  the  minds  of  others,  provoking  and  causing  infinite  actions  and  opin- 
ions in  succeeding  ages ; so  that  if  tho  invention  of  the  ship  was  thought 
so  noble,  which  carrieth  riches  and  commodities  from  place  to  place,  and 
consociateth  the  most  remote  regions  in  participation  of  their  fruits,  how- 
much  more  are  letters  to  be  magnified,  which,  as  ships,  pass  through  tho 
vast  seas  of  time,  and  make  ages  so  distant  to  participate  of  the  wisdom, 
illuminations,  and  inventions,  the  one  of  the  other  ? Nay,  further,  wo 
see  some  of  the  philosophers,  which  were  least  divine  and  most  immersed 
in  the  senses,  and  denied  generally  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  yet  came 
to  this  point,  that  whatsoever  motions  the  spirit  of  man  could  act  and 
perform  without  the  organs  of  tho  body,  they  thought  might  remain  after 
death,  which  were  only  those  of  the  understanding,  and  not  of  the  affec- 
tions ; so  immortal  and  incorruptible  a thing  did  knowledge  seem  unto 
them  to  be.  But  we  that  know  by  divine  revelation  that  not  only  the 
understanding  but  the  affections  purified,  not  only  the  spirit  but  the  body 
changed,  shall  be  advanced  to  immortality,  to  disclaim  these  rudiments 
of  the  senses.” — Lord  Bacon’s  Advancement  of  Learning,  Book  I. 


300 


THE  YISIOH  OF  SCIPIO. 


entered  tlieso  temples,  tlie  sun  disappeared  to  mortals  and 
seemed  to  bo  extinguished ; so  whenever  the  sun  be  eclipsed 
at  the  same  time  with  all  the  stars,  and  constellations,  brought 
back  to  the  same  starting-point,  shall  again  disappear,  then 
you  are  to  reckon  the  year  to  be  complete.  But  be  assured 
that  the  twentieth  part  of  such  a year  is  not  yet  elapsed. 

If,  therefore,  you  hope  to  return  to  this  place,  toward 
which  all  the  aspirations  of  great  and  good  men  are  tending, 
what  must  be  the  value  of  that  human  fame  that  endures  for 
but  a little  part  of  a single  year  V If,  then,  you  would  fain 
direct  your  regards  on  high,  and  aspire  to  this  mansion  and 
eternal  abode,  you  neither  will  devote  yourself  to  the 
rumors  of  the  vulgar,  nor  will  you  rest  your  hopes  and 
your  interest  on  human  rewards.  Virtue  herself  ought  to 
attract  you  by  her  own  charms  to  true  glory;  what  others 
may  talk  of  you,  for  talk  they  will,  let  themselves  consider. 
But  all  such  talk  is  confined  to  the  narrow  limits  of  those 
regions  which  you  see.  None  respecting  any  man  was  ever- 
lasting. It  is  both  extinguished  by  the  death  of  the  individual 
and  perishes  altogether  in  the  oblivion  of  posterity.^ 

^ “ Le  cygne  qui  s’envole  aux  voutes  eternelles, 

Amis,  s’informe-t-il  si  I’ombre  de  ses  ailes. 

Elotto  encore  sur  un  vil  gazon 

Lamartine.  Le  Poete  Mourant. 

The  contrast  between  the  vanity  of  posthumous  fame  and  the  glories 
of  a future  state  of  happiness,  is  represented  by  Dr.  South  in  the  follow- 
ing majestic  passage : 

“ Time,  like  a river,  carries  them  all  away  with  a rapid  course ; they 
swim  above  the  stream  for  a while,  but  are  quickly  swallowed  up,  and 
seen  no  more.  The  very  monuments  men  raise  to  perpetuate  their  names 
consume  and  molder  away  themselves,  and  proclaim  their  own  mortality, 
as  well  as  testify  that  of  others.  But  now  on  the  other  side,  the  enjoy- 
ments above  and  the  treasures  proposed  to  us  by  our  Saviour  are  inde- 
fectible in  their  nature  and  endless  in  their  duration.  They  are  still  full, 
fresh,  and  entire,  like  the  stars  and  orbs  above,  which  shine  with  the 
same  undiminished  luster,  and  move  with  the  same  unwearied  motion 
with  which  they  did  from  the  first  date  of  their  creation.  Nay,  the  joys 
of  heaven  will  abide  when  these  lights  of  heaven  will  be  put  out,  and 
when  sun  and  moon,  and  nature  itself  shall  be  discharged  their  stations, 
and  be  employed  by  Providence  no  more ; the  righteous  shall  then  ap- 
pear in  their  full  glory,  and,  being  fixed  in  the  Divine  presence,  enjoy 
one  perpetual  and  everlasting  day : a day  commensurate  to  the  unlimited 
eternity  of  God  himself,  the  great  Sun  of  Righteousness,  who  is  always 
rising  and  never  sets.” — South’s  Sermons,  vol.  i.  Sermon  48. 

2 This  is  another  of  the  instances  in  which  the  sentiments  of  Cicero 


THE  VISION*  OF  SCIPIO. 


SOI 


Which  when  he  had  said,  I replied,  “ Truly,  0 Africanus, 
&ince  the  path  to  heaven  lies  open  to  those  who  have 
deserved  well  of  their  country,  though  from  my  childhood  I 
have  ever  trod  in  your  and  my  father’s  footsteps  without 
disgracing*  your  glory,  yet  now,  with  so  noble  a prize  set 
before  me,  I shall  strive  with  much  more  diligence.” 

“ Do  so  strive,”  replied  he,  “ and  do  not  consider  yourself, 
but  your  body,  to  be  mortal.  For  you  are  not  the  being 
which  this  corporeal  figure  evinces ; but  the  mind  of  every 
man  is  the  man,  and  not  that  form  which  may  be  delineated^ 

coincide  as  nearly  as  possible  with  Scripture  in  the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes, 
chap.  ii.  ver.  14-22.  ‘‘The  wise  man’s  eyes  are  in  his  head;  but  the 
fool  walketh  in  darkness.  And  I myself  perceived  also  that  one  event 
happeneth  to  them  all.  Then  said  I in  my  heart,  As  it  happeneth  to  the 
fool,  so  it  happeneth  even  to  me ; and  why  was  I then  more  wise  ? 
Then  I said  in  my  heart,  that  this  also  is  vanity.  For  there  is  no  re- 
membrance of  the  wise  more  than  of  the  fool  forever;  seeing  that  which 
now  is,  in  the  days  to  come  shaU  all  be  forgotten.  And  how  dieth  the 
wise  man  ? As  the  fool.  Therefore,  I hated  life  ; because  the  work  that 
is  wrought  under  the  sun  is  grievous  unto  me  ; for  all  is  vanity  and  vex- 
ation of  spirit.  Yea,  I hated  all  my  labor  which  I had  taken  under  the 
sun ; because  I should  leave  it  unto  the  man  that  shall  be  after  me. 
And  who  knoweth  whether  he  shall  be  a wise  man  or  a fool  ? Yet  shall 
he  have  rule  over  all  my  labor  wherein  I have  labored,  and  wherein  I 
have  showed  myself  wise  under  the  sun.  This  is  also  vanity.  There- 
fore I went  about  to  cause  my  heart  to  despair  of  all  the  labor  which  I 
took  under  the  sun.  For  there  is  a man  whose  labor  is  in  wisdom,  and 
in  knowledge,  and  in  equity ; yet  to  a man  that  hath  not  labored  therein 
shall  he  leave  it  for  his  portion.  This  also  is  vanity  and  a great  evil. 
For  what  hath  man  of  all  his  labor,  and  of  the  vexation  of  his  heart, 
wherein  he  hath  labored  under  the  sun  ?” 

1 The  principle  here  enunciated  by  Cicero  is  thus  expanded  by  Bishop 
Butler  into  an  argument  for  the  soul’s  immortality : 

“ From  our  being  so  nearly  related  to  and  interested  in  certain  systems 
of  matter,  suppose  our  flesh  and  bones,  and  afterward  ceasing  to  be  at  all 
related  to  them,  the  living  agents,  ourselves,  remaining  all  this  while  un- 
destroyed, notwithstanding  such  alienation  ; and  consequently  these  sys- 
tems of  matter  not  being  ourselves  ; it  follows  further,  that  we  have  no 
ground  to  conclude  any  other  supposed  interval  system  of  matter  to  be 
the  living  agents  ourselves ; because  we  can  have  no  ground  to  conclude 
this,  but  so  form  our  relation  to  and  interest  in  such  other  system  of 
matter  at  death,  to  be  the  destruction  of  the  living  agents.  We  have 
already  several  times  over  lost  a great  part  or  perhaps  the  whole  of  our 
body,  according  to  certain  common  established  laws  of  nature,  yet  we 
remain  the  same  living  agents ; when  we  shall  lose  as  great  a part,  or 
the  whole,  by  another  common  established  law  of  nature,  death,  why 
may  we  not  also  remain  the  same  ? 


502 


THE  YISIOH  OF  SCIPIO. 


witli  a finger.  Know  therefore  ^ that  you  are  a divine  person. 
Since  it  is  divinity*  that  has  consciousness,  sensation,  memory, 
and  foresight ; — that  governs,  regulates,  and  moves  that  body 
over  which  it  has  been  appointed,  just  as  the  Supreme  Deity 
rules  this  world ; and  in  like  manner,  as  an  eternal  God 
guides  this  world,  which  in  some  respect  is  perishable,  so  an 
eternal  spirit  animates  your  frail  body. 

For  that  which  is  ever  moving^  is  eternal ; now  that  which 
communicates  to  another  object  a motion  which  it  received 

“ That  the  alienation  has  been  gradual  in  one  case,  and  in  the  other 
will  be  more  at  once,  does  not  prove  any  thing  to  the  contrary.  Wo 
have  passed  undestroyed  through  those  many  and  great  revolutions  of 
matter  so  peculiarly  appropriated  to  us  ourselves ; why  should  we  ima- 
gine death  will  be  so  fatal  to  us  ? Nor  can  it  be  objected,  that  what  is 
thus  alienated  or  lost  is  no  part  of  our  original  solid  body,  but  only  ad- 
ventitious matter ; because  we  may  lose  entire  limbs,  which  must  have 
contained  many  solid  parts  and  vessels  of  the  original  body ; or  if  this 
be  not  admitted,  we  have  no  proof  that  any  of  these  solid  parts  are  dis- 
solved or  alienated  by  death.  Though,  by  the  way,  we  are  very  nearly 
related  to  that  extraneous  or  adventitious  matter  while  it  continues 
united  to,  and  distending  the  several  parts  of,  our  solid  body.  But  after 
all  the  relation  a person  bears  to  those  parts  of  his  body  to  which  he  is 
the  most  nearly  related,  what  does  it  appear  to  amount  to  but  this,  that 
the  living  agent  and  those  parts  of  the  body  mutually  affect  each  other  ? 
And  the  same  thing,  the  same  thing  in  kind  though  not  in  degree,  may  be 
said  of  all  foreign  matter  which  gives  us  ideas,  and  which  we  have  any 
power  over.  From  these  observations  the  whole  ground  of  the  imagin- 
ation is  removed,  that  the  dissolution  of  any  matter  is  the  destruction  of 
a living  agent,  from  the  interest  he  once  had  in  such  matter.” 

^ “It  was  the  common  opinion  of  all  the  ancient  philosophers  who  fol- 
lowed the  system  of  Pythagoras,  that  the  souls  of  men,  and  even  of 
beasts,  were  portions  of  divinity.  What  opinion  our  author  had  of  the 
properties  and  immortality  of  the  soul  is  difficult  to  determine.  For  wo 
are  not  to  imagine  that  in  the  passage  before  us,  and  in  many  others  in 
which  he  mentions  the  subject,  he  gives  his  own  sentiments,  but  those 
of  others ; accordingly,  in  his  first  book,  De  Natura  Deorum^  he  makes 
Yeleius,  one  of  his  prolocutors,  absolutely  destroy  the  doctrine  which  is 
advanced  here.” — Guthrie. 

“ ’T  is  the  Divinity  that  stirs  within  us, 

’T  is  heaven  itself  that  points  out  an  hereafter. 

And  intimates  eternity  to  man  1” — Addison’s  Cato. 

3 “ All  this  doctrine  is  taken  almost  word  for  word  from  the  Phoedrus 
of  Plato,  and  Macrobius  has  reduced  it  to  the  following  syllogism.  The 
soul  is  self-motive;  now  self-motion  contains  the  principle  of  motion,  the 
principle  of  motion  is  not  created,  therefore  the  soul  is  not  created.”^ 
Guthrie. 


THE  VISION  OF  SCIPIO. 


303 


elsewhere,  must  necessarily  cease  to  live  as  soon  as  its  motion 
is  at  an  end.  Thus  the  being  which  is  self-motive  is  the 
only  being  that  is  eternal,  because  it  never  is  abandoned  by 
its  own  properties,  neither  is  this  self-motion  ever  at  an  end ; 
nay,  this  is  the  fountain,  this  is  the  beginning  of  motion  to 
all  things  that  are  thus  subjects  of  motion.  Now  there  can 
be  no  commencement  of  what  is  aboriginal,  for  all  things 
proceed  from  a beginning ; therefore  a beginning  can  rise 
from  no  other  cause,  for  if  it  proceeded  from  another  cause  it 
would  not  be  aboriginal,  which,  if  it  have  no  commencement, 
certainly  never  has  an  end ; for  the  primeval  principle,  if 
extinct,  can  neither  be  re-produced  from  any  other  source  nor 
produce  any  thing  else  from  itself,  because  it  is  necessary 
that  all  things  should  spring  from  some  original  source.  The 
principle  of  motion,  therefore,  can  only  exist  in  a self-motive 
being,  and  it  is  impossible  that  such  a being  should  be  born 
or  that  it  should  die,  otherwise  all  heaven  must  go  to  wreck, 
and  the  whole  system  of  nature  must  stop ; nor  can  it  come 
under  any  other  force,  should  it  be  removed  from  its  original 
impulsion.’ 

Since  therefore  it  is  plain  that  whatever  is  self-motive 
must  be  eternal,  who  can  deny  that  this  natural  property  is 

1 It  only  remains  then  to  bring  this  idea  of  the  material  word  into 
connection  with  the  principle  that  motion,  in  all  cases,  originates  from 
mind ; or  in  other  words,  in  the  effect  of  will — either  the  supreme  will, 
or  the  will  of  created  minds.  Motion  is  either  constant  and  uniform, 
obeying  what  we  call  a law,  or  it  is  incidental.  The  visible  and  palpable 
world  then,  according  to  this  theory,  is  motion,  constant  and  uniform, 
emanating  from  infinite  centers,  and  spreading  during  every  instant  of 
its  continuance  from  the  creative  energy.  The  instantaneous  cessation 
of  this  energy,  at  any  period,  is  therefore  abstractedly  quite  as  easily 
conceived  of  as  is  its  continuance ; and  whether,  in  the  next  instant,  it 
shall  continue,  or  shall  cease — whether  the  material  universe  shall  stand 
or  shall  vanish — is  an  alternative  of  which,  irrespective  of  other  reasons, 
the  one  member  may  be  as  easily  taken  as  the  other ; jnst  as  the  moving 
of  the  hand,  or  the  not  moving  it,  in  the  next  moment  depends  upon 
nothing  but  our  volition.  The  annihilation  of  the  solid  spheres — the 
planets,  and  the  suns,  that  occupy  the  celestial  spaces,  would  not  on  this 
supposition  be  an  act  of  irresistible  force  crushing  that  which  resists 
compression,  or  dissipating  and  reducing  to  an  ether  that  which  firmly 
coheres ; but  it  would  simply  be  the  non-exertion  in  the  next  instant  of 
a power  which  has  been  exerted  in  this  instant ; it  would  be,  not  a de- 
struction, but  a rest ; not  a crash  and  ruin,  but  a pause. — Taylor’s  Physi- 
cal Theory  of  another  Life,  chap,  xviii. 


304 


THE  VISION  OF  SCIPIO. 


bestowed  upon  our  minds  V For  every  thing  that  is  moved 
by  a foreign  impulse  is  inanimate,  but  that  which  is  animate 
is  impelled  by  an  inward  and  peculiar  principle  of  motion ; 
and  in  that  consists  the  nature  and  property  of  the  soul. 
Now  if  it  alone  of  all  things  is  self-motive,  assuredly  it  never 
was  originated,  and  is  eternal.  Do.  thou  therefore  employ  it 
in  the  noblest  of  pursuits,  and  the  noblest  of  cares  are  those 

1 It  is  motion  that  measures  duration,  and  time  is  duration,  measur- 
ed into  equal  parts  by  the  equable  motion  of  bodies  through  space.  But 
as  motion  belongs  to  matter,  of  which  it  is  a condition,  and  is  that  where- 
in duration  and  extension  combine  to  form  a common  product,  so  mind 
must  become  related  to  extension,  in  order  to  its  having  any  knowledge 
of  motion,  or  to  its  being  able  to  avail  itself  of  the  measurement  of  dura- 
tion ; in  other  words,  it  is  only  in  connection  with  matter  that  it  can 
know  any  thing  of  time. 

“ Minds  embodied,  not  only  learn  to  measure  out  their  own  existence 
equally,  and  to  correct  the  illusions  of  which  otherwise  they  would  be 
the  sport,  but  also,  by  an  insensible  habit,  they  came  to  exist  at  a more 
even  velocity,  if  we  may  so  speak,  than  could  else  be  possible,  and  learn 
unconsciously  to  put  a curb  upon  the  excessive  and  dangerous  rapidity 
of  thought ; while  in  other  cases  a spur  is  supplied  for  the  sluggishness 
of  the  mind,  or  a remedy  found  for  its  undue  fixedness ; and  thus  all 
minds  are  brought  to  move  together  at  nearly  the  same  rate,  or  at  least 
as  nearly  so  as  is  essential  for  securing  the  order  and  harmony  of  the 
social  system. 

“ But  then,  this  same  intimate  connection  between  mind  and  matter, 
while  it  exposes  the  mind,  passively,  to  the  influence  of  the  inferior  ele- 
ment, becomes  in  return  the  means  of  its  exerting  a power — and  how 
extensive  and  mysterious  a power  is  it — over  the  solid  matter  around  it. 
Mind,  embodied,  by  a simple  act  or  volition,  originates  motion.  That 
is  to  say,  its  will  or  desire,  through  the  instrumentality  of  muscular  con- 
tractions, as  applied  to  the  body  itself,  or  to  other  bodies,  puts  it  or  them 
in  movement.  This  power  of  the  mind  in  overcoming  the  vis  inertice  of 
matter  and  the  force  of  gravitation,  is  the  only  active  influence  in  rela- 
tion to  the  material  world  which  we  have  a certain  knowledge  of  its 
possessing;  for,  as  is  obvious,  the  various  combinations  of  substances 
that  are  brought  about  by  the  skill  of  man,  are  all  indirectly  efiected 
through  the  instrumentality  of  the  muscular  system  ; nor  can  it  be  ascer- 
tained, whether  the  chemical  changes  and  assimilations  that  are  carried 
on  in  the  secreting  glands  and  the  viscera  are  effected  by  an  unconsious 
involuntary  mental  operation.  This  organic  influence  excepted,  suppos- 
ing it  to  exist,  the  mechanical  power  of  the  njind  is  the  only  one  it  en- 
joys; but  this  it  enjoys  in  no  mean  degree.  It  may,  without  much 
hazard,  be  assumed,  that  motion  in  all  instances  originates  in  an  imme- 
diate volition,  either  of  the  supremo  or  of  some  created  mind,  and  that 
this  power  is  exerted  by  the  latter  through  the  means  of  a corporeal 
ctruciure.” — Taylor’s  Physical  Theory  of  Another  Life,  chap.  ii. 


THE  VISION  OF  SCIPIO. 


305 


for  the  safety  of  thy  country.  The  soul  that  is  stirred  and 
agitated  by  these  will  fly  the  more  quickly  to  this  mansion, 
even  to  its  own  home,^  and  this  will  be  the  more  rapid,  if 
even  now,  while  it  is  imprisoned  within  the  body  it  sallies 
abroad,  and,  contemplating  those  objects  that  are  without  it, 
abstracts  itself  as  much  as  possible  from  the  body.  For  the 
souls  of  those  men  who  are  devoted  to  corporeal  pleasures 
themselves,  and  who  having  yielded  themselves  as  it  were 
as  their  servants,  enslaved  to  pleasures  under  the  impulse 
of  their  passions,  have  violated  the  laws  of  gods  and  men ; 
such  souls,  having  escaped  from  their  bodies,  hover  round  the 
earth,  nor  do  they  return  to  this  place,  till  they  have  been 
tossed  about  for  many  ages.”  He  vanished,  and  I awoke  from 
my  sleep. 

1 We  can  not  better  conclude  our  notes  on  this  interesting  fragment, 
than  by  the  peroration  of  that  sermon  of  the  late  Eobert  Hall  which 
was  possibly  suggested  by  this  passage,  and  indeed  some  of  the  greatest 
beauties  of  that  discourse  seem  to  have  been,  by  passages  from  the  fore- 
going treatises  of  Cicero : — 

“ To  that  state  all  the  pious  on  earth  are  tending,  and  if  there  is  a law 
from  whose  operation  none  are  exempt,  which  inevitably  conveys  their 
bodies  to  darkness  and  to  dust,  there  is  another  not  less  certain,  or  less 
powerful,  which  conducts  their  spirits  to  the  abodes  of  bhss,  to  the  bosom 
of  their  father  and  their  God.  The  wheels  of  nature  are  not  made  to  roll 
backward.  Every  thing  presses  on  to  eternity.  From  the  birth  of  time 
an  impetuous  current  has  set  in,  which  bears  all  the  sons  of  men  toward 
that  interminable  ocean.  Meanwhile,  heaven  is  attracting  to  itself, 
whatever  is  congenial  to  its  nature,  is  enriching  itself  by  the  spoils  of  the 
earth,  and  collecting  within  its  capacious  bosom  whatever  is  pure,  per- 
manent, and  divine,  leaving  nothing  for  the  last  fire  to  consume  but  the 
objects  and  slaves  of  concupiscence  ; while  every  thing  which  grace  has 
prepared  and  beautified,  shall  be  gathered  and  selected  from  the  ruins  of 
the  world  to  adorn  that  eternal  city. 

“Let  us  obey  the  voice  that  calls  us  thither;  let  us  seek  the  things 
that  are  above,  and  no  longer  cleave  to  a world  which  must  shortly 
perish,  and  which  we  must  shortly  quit,  while  we  neglect  to  prepare  for 
that  in  whiqh  wer  are  invited  to  dwell  forever.  While  every  thing 
within  us  and  around  us  reminds  us,  qf,  the, approach  of  death,  and  con- 
curs to  teach  us  that  this  is  not  our  rest,  let  us  hasten  pur  preparations 
for  another  world,  and  earnestly  implore  that  grace  which  alone  can  put 
an  end  to  that  fatal  war  which  our  desires  have  too  long  waged  with 
our  destiny.  When  these  move  in  the  same  direction,  and  that  which 
the  will  of  ; heaven  renders  :dh avoidable,  shall;  become  Qur  choipe,  all 
things  wilh  be  ours;  life  Will  be  divested  of  its  vanity,  and  death  disarm^ 
ed  of  its  terrors.’’ — HaU’s  Funerni  Sermon  for  Pj.  Ey  land,  , ^ - 


306 


CICERO  ON  THE 


ON  THE 

DUTIES  OP  A MAGISTRATE. 


ADDRESSED  TO  HIS  BROTHER  QUINTUS. ‘ 

Though  I doubt  not^  that  many  messengers  and  indeed 
that  rumor  itself  with  characteristic  rapidity  will  have  out- 
stripped this  letter,  and  that  you  will  already  have  heard 
that  a third  year  has  been  added  to  your  labors,  and  to  our 
impatience,  yet  I have  thought  that  the  announcement  of  this 
annoyance  should  be  made  to  you  by  me  also.  For  while 
every  one  else  despaired  of  the  success,  I still,  by  repeated 
letters,  gave  you  hopes  of  an  early  return,  not  only  that  I 
might  amuse  you  as  long  as  possible  with  that  pleasing 
expectation,  but  because  I did  not  doubt  that  through  the 
strong  interest  made  both  by  me  and  the  praetors  the  object 
might  be  accomplished.  [Now  as  it  has  so  happened  that 
neither  the  praetors  by  their  interest,  nor  I by  my  zeal,  were 
able  to  effect  any  thing,  it  is  certainly  difficult  not  to  feel 
mortification  at  it,  but  yet  we  ought  never  to  suffer  our 
minds  which  are  employed  in  managing  and  supporting  the 
arduous  affairs  of  government  to  be  crushed  or  dejected  by 
misfortune.  And  because  men  ought  to  be  most  annoyed  by 
those  ills  which  are  incurred  by  their  own  faults,  there  is  in 
this  transaction  somewhat  more  afflicting  to  me  than  ought  to 
be  to  you,  for  it  happened  by  my  misconduct  contrary  to 
your  understanding  with  me  when  parting,  and  subsequently 

' Quintus  Cicero  was  at  this  time  propraetor  of  Asia  Minor. 

^ In  the  original  “ non  duMtdbamy  The  Roman  idiom  in  epistolary 
writing,  is  that  the  verbs  by  which  the  writer  expresses  a present  action 
or  state,  are  put  in  the  past  tense ; that  is,  as  it  will  appear,  to  the  per- 
son who  subsequently  reads  the  letter. 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


307 


by  letters,  that  your  successor  was  not  named  last  year.  This  I 
did  unwisely,  with  a view  of  consulting  the  welfare  of  our  allies, 
of  crushing  the  presumptuousness  of  certain  traders,^  and  with 
the  desire  of  increasing  my  own  glory  through  your  merits  ; es- 
pecially as  I effected  the  result  of  a third  year  being  added  to 
that  second. 

Having  thus  frankly  acknowledged  that  it  was  my  fault,  it 
is  the  part  of  your  wisdom  and  kindness  to  take  care  and 
manage  that  this  which  has  been  unwisely  schemed  by  me 
may  corrected  by  your  diligence ; and  surely,  if  you  exert 
yourself  in  all  the  duties  of  government  so  as  to  seem  to  vie 
not  only  with  others  but  with  yourself,  if  you  call  in  use  all 
your  faculties,  all  your  attention,  all  your  thought,  to  that 
love  of  glory,  which  is  so  powerfully  prevalent  in  all  trans- 
actions, believe  me,  that  one  year  added  to  your  toil  will 
bring  many  years  of  pleasure  to  us,  and  even  glory  to  our  pos- 
terity. Wherefore,  I in  the  first  place  beg  of  you,  that 
you  will  not  suffer  your  spirit  to  be  damped  or  diminished, 
nor  yourself  to  be  overwhelmed,  as  with  a flood,  by  the 
multitude  of  business ; but  that,  on  the  contrary,  you  will 
arouse  yourself,  and  make  a firm  stand,  even  if  you  spon- 
taneously incur  it ; for  you  do  not  bear  a part  in  such  a 
government  as  is  governed  by  fortune,  but  one  in  which 
discretion  and  diligence  has  the  greatest  influence.  Had  I 
seen  your  command  prolonged  at  a time  when  you  were 
involved  in  the  management  of  some  great  and  dangerous 
war,  then  I should  have  been  disquieted  in  my  mind,  because 
I should  have  been  sensible  that  the  power  of  fortune  over 
us  was  prolonged  at  the  same  time.  But  since  that  depart- 
ment of  the  state  has  been  committed  to  you  in  which 
fortune  has  very  little  or  no  part,  it  seems  to  me  to 
depend  entirely  on  your  own  virtue  and  wisdom.  We 
apprehend,  I think,  no  treachery  of  enemies ; no  revolt  of 
our  allies ; no  want  of  money  or  scarcity  of  provisions,  and 
no  mutiny  in  the  army.  Yet  these  have  often  happened  to 

the  wisest  of  men,  who  are  forced  to  yield  to  the  assaults  of 

1 Traders.  “ Several  complaints  had  been  carried  to  Rome  against 
Quintus,  and  Cicero  thought  that  his  brother  remaining  another  year  in 
his  government  might  have  stifled  them.  The  reader  is  to  observe  that 
this  government  was  the  province  of  Asia  Minor,  one  of  the  best  the 
Romans  had,  and  that  a great  many  merchants  resided  there  for  the 
benefit  of  commerce.” — Guthrie. 


308 


CICERO  ON  THE 


fortune,  as  the  best  of  pilots  sometimes  are  to  the  violence  of  a 
tempest. 

The  most  profound  peace  and  perfect  tranquillity  has 
fallen  to  your  lot ; but  though  those  are  circumstances  that 
may  well  give  pleasure  to  a vigilant  steersman,  yet  they  may 
be  fatal  to  a sleeping  one.  For  your  province  is  composed, 
first  of  that  kind  of  allies,  who  of  all  the  human  race  are  the 
most  humanized ; and  in  the  next  place  of  those  Eoman 
citizens,  who  either  as  farmers  of  the  public  revenues,  are 
most  intimately  connected  with  me,^  or,  having  so  traded  as 
to  have  become  rich,  consider  they  possess  their  fortunes  in 
security  through  the  beneficial  influence  of  my  consular 
administration.  Yet  even  among  these  very  men  serious  dis- 
putes  exist,  many  injustices  are  committed,  and  great  con- 
tentions are  the  consequence ; and,  thinking  thus,  I am 
sensible  that  you  have  not  a little  business  upon  your 
hands.  I know  that  this  business  is  very  important,  and 
requires  great  wisdom.  But  still  remember  that  I main- 
tain that  this  is  a business  which  rather  requires  wisdom 
than  good  fortune.  If  you  restrain  yourself,  how  easy 

is  it  to  restrain  those  you  govern.  This  may  indeed  be 
a great  and  difficult  matter  to  others,  as  indeed  it  is  a most 
difficult  achievement ; but  the  practice  of  it  was  ever  easy  to 
you ; and  well  it  might  be,  as  your  disposition  is  such  that  it 
seems  capable  of  moderation  even  without  harming;  while 
such  an  education  has  been  enjoyed  by  you  as  would  be 
capable  of  correcting  the  most  vicious  nature.  When  you 
check,  as  you  do,  the  passion  for  money,  for  pleasure,  and 
for  all  other  things,  can  there  be  forsooth  any  danger  of 
your  being  unable  to  restrain  a dishonest  trader,  or  a too 
rapacious  publican  ? For  even  the  Greeks,  when  they 

behold  your  living  in  this  manner,  will  think  that  some  one 

1 So  Cicero  in  his  speech  in  support  of  the  Manilian  Law,  says,  in 
speaking  of  this  same  class : — “ Equitibus  Romanis  honestissimis  viris, 
afferuntur  ex  Asia  quotidie  literse  quorum  magnae  res  aguntur,  in  vestris 
vectigalibus  exercendis  occupatae ; qui  ad  me,  pro  neccessitudine,  quae 
mihi  est  cum  illo  ordine,  causam  rei  publicae  periculaque  rerum  suarum 
detulerunt.” 

“Letters  are  daily  brought  from  Asia,  from  Roman  knights,  most 
honorable  men  largely  engaged  in  the  farming  of  your  revenues,  who,  in 
consideration  of  the  close  relationship  which  subsists  between  me  and 
th?it  order,  have  laid  before  me  the  cause  of  the  state  and  the  jeopardy 
of  their  own  interests.” 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


309 


from  tlie  records  of  llieir  ancient  history,  or  some  divine  person 
from  heaven  has  descended  upon  that  province.^ 

1 write  to  you  in  this  strain,  not  that  you  might  practice 
these  things,  hut  that  you  may  rejoice  that  you  do  practice 
them,  and  that  you  have  ever  done  so.  For  it  is  a glorious 
thing  for  a mail  to  have  been  invested  with  a three  years’ 
sovereign  power  in  Asia,  in  such  a manner  that  no  statue,  no 
picture,  no  plate,  no  garment,  no  slave,  no  beauty,  no  hoard 
of  money,  in  which  things  this  province  abounds,  ever  caused 
him  to  swerve  from  his  continence  and  moderation ! ^ Again 

^ We  have  a striking  parallel  passage  to  this  in  Cicero’s  oration,  “Pro 
Lege  Manilia.”  In  eulogizing  the  continence  of  Pompey  in  Asia  Minor, 
he  says,  “Non  avaritia  ab  instituto  cursu  ad  prsedam  aliquam  devocavit, 
non  libido  ad  voluptatem,  non  amoenitas  ad  delectationem,  non  nobilitas 
urbis  ad  cognitionem,  non  denique  labor  ipse  ad  quietem  Postremo  signa, 
et  tabulas,  ceteraque  ornamenta  Grsecorum  oppidorum,  quse  ceteri  tollen- 
da  esse  arbitrantur,  ea  sibi  ille  ne  visenda  quidem  existimavit.  Itaque 
omnes  quidem,  nunc  in  his  locis  Cn.  Pompeium,  sicut  aliquem  non  ex 
hac  urbe  missum,  sed  de  coelo  delapsum,  intuentur.” 

“Neither  did  avarice  call  him  away  from  the  course  he  had  laid  down, 
to  the  acquisition  of  any  gain,  nor  his  passions  to  any  pleasure,  nor  the 
magnificence  of  a city  to  acquaint  himself  with  it,  nor  fatigue  itself  to 
repose.  Moreover  those  statues  and  paintings  and  other  ornaments  of 
Greek  towns,  which  others  consider  as  things  to  be  carried  away,  he  did 
not  even  regard  as  objects  to  be  visited,  and  thus  indeed  all  men  now  in 
these  regions  look  upon  Cneius  Pompey,  not  as  a certain  individual  dis- 
patched from  this  city,  but  as  one  descended  from  heaven.” 

2 “ Statues  and  paintings,  and  works  of  art  in  general,  were  favorite 
objects  of  rapacity  with  the  Roman  commanders,  and  were  carried  off 
wdthout  any  scruple.  The  statues  and  pictures  which  Marcellus  trans- 
ported from  Syracuse  to  Rome,  first  excited  that  cupidity  which  led  the 
Roman  provincial  magistrates  to  pillage  without  scruple  or  distinction, 
the  houses  of  private  individuals,  and  the  temples  of  the  gods.  Marcellus 
and  Mummius,  however,  despoiled  only  hostile  and  conquered  countries. 
They  had  made  over  their  plunder  to  the  public,  and  after  it  was  con- 
veyed to  Rome,  devoted  to  the  embellishment  of  the  capital ; but  subse- 
quent governors  of  provinces,  having  acquired  a taste  for  works  of  art, 
began  to  appropriate  to  themselves  those  masterpieces  of  Greece,  which 
they  had  formerly  neither  known  nor  esteemed.  Some  contrived  plausi- 
ble pretexts  for  borrowing  valuable  works  of  art  from  cities  and  private 
persons,  without  any  intention  of  restoring  them,  while  others,  less  cau- 
tious or  more  shameless,  seized  whatever  pleased  them,  whether  public 
or  private  property,  without  excuse  or  remuneration.  But  though  this 
passion  was  common  to  most  provincial  governors,  none  of  them  ever 
came  up  to  the  fuU  measure  of  the  rapacity  of  Y erres,  when  prmtor  of 
Sicily.  He  seized  tapestry,  pictures,  gold  and  silver,  plate,  vases,  gems, 
and  Corinthian  bronzes,  till  he  literally  did  not  leave  a single  article  of 


310 


CICERO  ON  THE 


what  can  be  a more  distinguished,  a more  desirable  circumstance, 
than  that  this  virtue,  this  moderation,  this  purity  of  mind,  should 
not  be  buried  or  concealed  in  darkness,  but  displayed  in  the 
sight  of  Asia,  to  the  eyes  of  the  noblest  of  our  provinces,  and  to 
the  ears  of  all  people  and  nations.  That  the  inhabitants  are 
not  alarmed  at  your  journeys ! — that  they  are  not  impoverished 
by  your  expenses ! — that  they  are  not  frightened  by  your  ap- 
proach ! — that  there  is  the  utmost  rejoicing,  both  public  and 
private,  wherever  you  go  ? — that  every  town  seems  to  receive 
you  as  its  guardian,  not  as  its  tyrant ! — every  house  as  a guest, 
not  as  a robber ! ^ 

But  upon  this  subject,  experience  by  this  time  must  have 
instructed  you  that  it  is  not  suflScient  for  you  alone  to 
practice  these  virtues,  but  you  are  to  give  careful  attention, 
that  invested  as  you  are  with  this  government,  not  only  you, 
but  all  officers  subordinate  to  your  authority,  are  to  act  for 
the  good  of  our  allies,  of  our  fellow-citizens,  and  of  our 
country.  You  have,  it  is  true,  lieutenants  under  you,  who 
will  themselves  have  regard  to  their  own  dignity ; and  of 
these  the  chief  in  preferment,  in  dignity,  and  in  experience, 
is  Tubero,  who,  I make  no  doubt,  especially  while  he  is 
writing  his  history,  will  be  able  to  choose  from  his  own 
annals  such  models  of  conduct,  as  he  both  can  and  will 
imitate;  and  Allienus,  too,  attached  to  us  as  well  in  affec- 
tion and  inclination,  as  in  imitation  of  our  lives.  Need  I to 
mention  Gratidius,  who,  I know  for  a certainty,  labors  for 
his  own  fame,  so  as,  with  a brotherly  affection  for  us,  to 
labor  equally  for  ours.  You  have  a quaestor,^  whom  lot,  and 

value  of  these  descriptions  in  the  whole  island.” — Dunlop’s  Roman  Lite- 
rature, vol.  ii.  page  284. 

^ Ejusmodi  in  provinciam  homines  cum  imperio  mittimus,  ut,  etiam  si 
ah  hoste  defendant,  tamen  ipsorum  adventus  in  urbes  sociorum  non 
multum  ab  hostili  expugnatione  differant.  Hunc  audiebant  antea,  nunc 
prmsentem  vident,  tanta  temperantia,  tanta  mansuetudine,  tanta  human- 
itate,  ut  is  beatissimi  esse  videantur,  apud  quos  ille  diutissime  commo- 
ratur.^ 

“We  send  out  into  that  province  such  men  with  military  command, 
that  even  if  they  defend  them  from  the  enemy,  yet  their  own  entrance 
into  the  cities  of  our  allies  differs  but  little  from  a hostile  invasion ; but 
this  man,  they  had  heard  of  before,  and  now  see  him  present  among  them 
distinguished  by  so  much  self-control,  so  much  gentleness,  so  much  hu- 
manity, that  those  seem  to  be  the  most  fortunate  with  whom  he  makes 
the  longest  stay.” — Cicero’s  Oration  for  the  Manilian  Law. 

^ QucBstor,  This  officer  had  the  charge  of  the  public  money,  and  it 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTKATE. 


311 


not  your  own  choice,  appointed  to  you.  It  is  necessary  that  he 
should  both  be  moderate  by  his  own  inclination,  and  conform 
himself  to  your  arrangements  and  directions. 

Should  any  of  your  officers  appear  of  a more  selfish  dis- 
position, you  should  bear  with  him,  so  long  as  he  only 
neglects  the  laws  by  which  he  is  bound  in  his  own  person, 
but  not  if  he  should  prostitute  for  interest  that  power  which 
you  have  annexed  to  his  office.  It  does  not  however  seem 
desirable  to  me,  especially  as  our  manners  have  lately  leaned  so 
much  to  laxity  and  ambition,  that  you  should  scrutinize  and 
dissect  out  every  instance  of  corruption ; ^ but  to  proportion 
the  trust  you  repose  in  every  one,  according  to  the  degree  of 
honesty  he  possesses.  In  like  manner  you  should  be  answerable 
for  those  whom  our  government  has  given  you  as  assessors  and 
assistants,  only  under  the  restrictions  which  I have  already  laid 
down. 

As  to  those  whom  you  have  chosen  to  belong  to  your 
domestic  establishment,  or  to  be  with  you  as  your  necessary 
retinue,  and  who  are  accustomed  to  be  designated  as  of  the 
praetor’s  cohort,  you  are  answerable,  not  only  for  all  their 
actions,  but  for  all  their  sayings.  But  you  have  about  your 
person  those  whom  you  may  easily  love  while  they  act 
rightly ; and  such  as  but  slightly  consult  your  reputation  you 
can  most  easily  coerce.  Meanwhile  it  is  natural  to  suppose 
that,  while  you  were  inexperienced,  your  generosity  might 
have  been  imposed  upon ; for  the  more  virtuous  any  man  is  in 
himself,  the  less  easily  does  he  suspect  others  to  be  vicious.^ 

was  determined  by  lot  in  what  province  he  should  serve.  He  likewise 
paid  the  soldiers,  and  acted  as  contractor  for  the  army. 

^ Shakespeare  seems  to  have  had  this  passage  in  his  recollection  when 
he  wrote  that  passage  in  his  play  of  Julius  Caesar : 

“ At  such  a time  as  this  it  is  not  meet 
That  every  nice  offense  should  bear  its  comment.” 

2 This  principle  of  morals  has  been  confirmed  by  the  experience  of 
mankind  until  it  has  almost  become  proverbial ; it  is  asserted  by  Dr. 
Johnson  in  the  following  passage : “ Suspicion,  however  necessary  it  may 
be  to  our  safe  passage  through  ways  beset  on  all  sides,  by  fraud  and 
malice,  has  been  always  considered,  when  it  exceeds  the  common  meas- 
ures, as  a token  of  depravity  and  corruption ; and  a Grreek  writer  of 
sentences  has  laid  down,  as  a standing  maxim,  that  he  who  believes  not 
another  on  his  oath,  knows  himself  to  be  perjured. 

“We  can  form  our  opinions  of  that  which  we  know  not,  only  by  plac- 
ing it  in  comparison  with  some  thing  that  we  know : whoever,  therefore, 


312 


CICERO  ON  THE 


But  now  let  this  third  year  he  distinguished  by  the  same 
purity  which  marked  the  two  former,  and  even  by  more 
caution  and  diligence.  Let  your  ears  he  such  as  are 
suppoesd  to  hear  what  they  listen  to,  but  not  into  which 
things  may  he  falsely  and  dishonestly  whispered  for  the  sake 
of  gain,  without  being  the  receptacles  of  false  and  malicious 
whispers,  insinuations,  and  complaints.  Suffer  not  your  seal 
to  be  a common  chattel,  but  as  your  very  self;  let  it  not  Ic 
the  tool  of  another’s  pleasure,  but  the  evidence  of  your  own. 
Let  your  pursuivant  keep  the  rank  which  our  ancestors 
assigned  to  him,  who  did  not  rashly  intrust  that  office  to  any 
but  freed  men,  over  whom  they  exercised  pretty  much  the 
same  command,  as  they  did  over  their  slaves,  and  that  not  as 
a post  of  advantage  but  of  labor  and  service.  Let  the  lictor 
be  the  agent  of  your  lenity  rather  than  of  his  own,  and  let 
his  ax  and  his  rods  be  stronger  evidences  of  his  post  than  of 
his  power. 

is  overrun  with  suspicion,  and  detects  artifice  and  stratagem  in  every 
proposal,  must  either  have  learned  by  experience  or  observation  the 
'wickedness  of  mankind,  and  been  taught  to  avoid  fraud  by  having  often 
suffered  or  seen  treachery,  or  he  must  derive  his  judgment  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  own  disposition,  and  impute  to  others  the  same  inclina- 
tions, which  he  feels  predominant  in  himself. 

“When  therefore  a young  man,  not  distinguished  by  vigor  of  intel- 
lect, comes  into  the  world  full  of  scruples  and  diffidence,  makes  a bargain 
with  many  provisional  limitations ; hesitates  in  his  answer  to  a common 
question  lest  more  should  be  intended  than  he  can  immediately  discover ; 
has  a long  reach  in  detecting  the  projects  of  his  acquaintance ; considers 
every  caress  as  an  act  of  hypocrisy,  and  feels  neither  gratitude  nor  affec- 
tion from  the  tenderness  of  his  friends,  because  he  believes  no  one  to 
have  any  real  tenderness,  but  for  himself;  whatever  expectations  this 
early  sagacity  may  raise  of  his  future  eminence  or  riches,  I can  seldom 
forbear  to  consider  him  as  a wretch  incapable  of  generosity  or  benevo- 
lence ; as  a villain  early  completed  beyond  the  need  of  common  opportu- 
nities and  gradual  temptations. 

“ Suspicion  is  indeed  a temper  so  uneasy  and  restless,  that  it  is  very 
justly  appointed  the  concomitant  of  guilt.  It  is  said,  that  no  torture  is 
equal  to  the  inhibition  of  sleep  long  continued  ; a pain  to  which  the  state 
of  that  man  bears  a very  exact  analogy,  who  dares  never  give  rest  to 
his  vigilance  and  circumspection,  but  considers  himself  as  surrounded  by 
secret  foes,  and  fears  to  intrust  his  children  or  his  friend  with  the  secret 
that  throbs  in  his  breast  and  the  anxieties  that  break  into  his  face.  To 
avoid,  at  this  expense,  those  evils  to  which  easiness  and  friendship  might 
have  exposed  him,  is  surely  to  buy  safety  at  too  dear  a rate,  and  in  the 
language  of  the  Roman  satirist,  to  save  life  by  losing  all  for  which  a wise 
man  would  live.” — Rambler,  No.  79. 


% 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


313 


In  short,  let  all  the  province  be  sensible  how  dearly  you 
prize  the  welfare,  the  children,  the  fame,  and  the  fortunes  of  all 
who  are  under  your  command.  Let  it  be  notorious  that  you 
will  be  equally  the  enemy  of  the  man  who  gives,  as  of  him 
who  receives  a present,  if  you  shall  know  it ; for  no  one  will 
give  them,  when  it  shall  be  clearly  perceived  that  those  who 
pretend  to  have  the  greatest  interest  with  you  are  accustomed 
to  obtain  nothing  from  you. 

Yet  this  address  of  mine  to  you  is  not  because  I would 
have  you  treat  your  dependents  in  a too  severe  or  suspicious 
manner.  For  if  any  of  them  for  two  years  have  never  fallen 
under  suspicion  of  avarice,  as  I hear  Caesius,  Chaerippus, 
and  Labeo,  have  done,  and  I believe  it  because  I know  them 
well ; there  is  nothing  which  I should  not  think  may  be 
most  properly  committed  to  them  and  to  men  of  their 
character.  But  if  there  is  a man  from  whom  you  have 
already  received  offense,  or  of  whom  you  have  known  any 
thing  ill,  never  intrust  any  thing  to  him,  nor  commit  to  him 
any  portion  of  your  reputation.  But  if  within  your  province 
you  have  got  any  person  who  has  been  thoroughly  admitted 
to  your  intimacy,  and  who  is  unknown  to  me,  consider  how  far 
you  ought  to  trust  him.  Not  but  that  there  may  be  many 
worthy  men  among  the  provincials ; but  this  it  is  lawful  to 
hope,  but  dangerous  to  determine.  For  every  man’s  nature  is 
concealed  with  many  folds  of  disguise,  and  covered  as  it  were 
with  various  vails.  His  nature,  his  brows,  his  eyes,  and  very 
often  his  countenance  are  deceitful,  and  his  speed  is  most  com- 
monly a lie. 

Wherefore,  out  of  that  class  of  men  who,  being  devoted  to 
the  love  of  money,  are  destitute  of  all  those  qualities  from 
which  we  can  not  be  separated,  where  can  you  find  one  who 
will  sincerely  love  you,  a mere  stranger  to  them,  and  not  pre- 
tend to  do  so  for  the  sake  of  advantage  ? It  would  seem  to  me 
very  extraordinary,  especially  as  those  very  men  pay  seldom 
any  regard  to  any  private  man,  while  they  are  all  invariably 
attached  themselves  to  the  praetors.  However,  if  among  such 
kind  of  men  you  should  find  one  (for  the  thing  is  not  impos- 
sible), who  loves  you  more  than  he  does  his  own  interest,  eagerly 
enroll  such  a man  in  the  number  of  your  friends ; but  if  you  do 
perceive  this,  there  will  be  no  class  in  your  acquaintance  more 
to  be  avoided : because  they  know  all  the  arts  of  getting 

14 


314 


CICEEO  ON  THE 


istfioney,  they  do  nothing  but  for  money,  and  they  are  indifferent 
about  the  opinion  of  any  man  with  whom  they  are  not  to  con- 
tinue to  live. 

Certain  connections  too  with  the  Greeks  themselves  are  to  be 
most  carefully  guarded  against,  except  with  a very  few  men, 
who,  if  any,  are  worthy  of  ancient  Greece.  For  truly,  in 
general  they  are  deceitful  and  treacherous,  and  trained  up  by 
perpetual  subjection,  in  the  art  of  sycophancy.^  All  of  these  I 
would  say  should  be  liberally  treated,  and  the  best  of  them  re- 
ceived into  hospitality  and  friendship ; but  too  close  intimacies 
with  them  are  not  very  safe,  for  though  they  dare  not  oppose 
our  wishes,  yet  they  are  jealous  not  only  of  our  countrymen 
but  even  of  their  own.  Though  they  dare  not  fly  in  the  face 
of  a Koman  magistrate,  yet  at  the  bottom  they  hate  not  only 
us  but  their  own  countrymen. 

Now,  as  in  matters  of  this  kind,  as  I wish  to  be  cautious 
and  diligent  (though  I fear  I may  seem  too  rigid),  what  do 
you  think  is  my  feeling  with  respect  to  slaves,  whom  we 
ought  to  keep  under  the  strictest  command  in  all  places, 
but  especially  in  the  provinces  ? Concerning  this  class  many 
directions  might  be  given ; but  the  shortest  and  plainest 
method  I can  recommend  is,  that  in  all  your  Asiatic 
journeys,  they  should  behave  as  if  you  were  traveling  over 
the  Appian  way,  and  that  they  think  there  is  not  the  least 
difference  whether  they  were  entering  Tralles^  or  Formia3.^ 
But  if  any  of  your  slaves  should  distinguish  himself  by  his 
fidelity,  let  him  be  employed  in  your  domestic  and  private 
affairs,  but  not  let  him  have  the  smallest  thing  to  do  with 
an}'  public  concern,  or  any  thing  relating  to  the  business  of 
your  government.  For  though  many  things  may  properly 

^ Juvenal  alludes  to  the  same  characteristic  vice  of  the  Greeks  in  tho 
following  passages : — 

Quae  nunc  divitibus  gens  acceptissima  nostris, 

Et  quos  praecipue  fugiam,  properabo  fateri ; 

Nec  pudor  obstabit.  Non  possum  ferre,  Quirites, 

Graecam  urbem,  quamvis  quota  portion  faecis  AchaeL 

^ ^ ^ :|c 

Natio  comoeda  est:  rides?  majore  cachinno 
Concutitur : flet  si  lachrymas  conspexit  amici. 

Noc  dolet.  Igniculum  brumae  si  tempore  poscas, 

Accipit  endromidem : si  dixeris,  aestuo,  sudat. 

2 A city  in  Caria  under  the  government  of  Quintus. 

3 A cicy  of  Campania  in  Italy. 


DUTIES  OF  A MAOISTRATE. 


315 


be  intrusted  to  our  faithful  slaves,  yet  for  the  sake  of  avoiding 
observation  and  animadversion,  they  ought  not  to  be  committed 
to  them. 

But  I know  not  how  my  discourse  has  deviated  into  a style 
of  dictation,  though  that  was  not  my  intention  at  the  com- 
mencement. For  why  should  I dictate  to  a man  not  inferior 
to  me  in  knowledge,  especially  in  all  matters  of  this  kind, 
and  even  superior  in  experience  ? but  I thought  it  would  be 
very  agreeable,  if  my  sanction  were  added  to  what  you  are 
doing.  Wherefore  let  these  be  the  foundations  of  your 
dignity.  In  the  first  place,  your  own  integrity  and  modera- 
tion ; in  the  next  place,  the  modest  behavior  of  all  whp  are 
about  you,  joined  to  a very  cautious  and  circumspect  choice 
of  your  acquaintance,  whether  they  be  provincials  or  Greeks  ; 
and  the  orderly  and  consistent  regulation  of  your  household. 
All  which  particulars  are  commendable  in  our  private  and 
daily  concerns,  but  they  must  appear  divine  amid  such 
great  power,  such  depraved  manners,  and  so  corrupting  a 
province. 

Such  a plan,  and  such  regulations,  will  be  sufficient  to  sup- 
port that  severity  in  all  your  resolutions,  and  all  your  decrees, 
which  you  exercised  in  those  matters,  and  by  which,  to  my 
great  pleasure,  we  have  incurred  some  enmities,  unless,  indeed, 
you  imagine  that  I was  influenced  by  the  complaints  of  an  in- 
dividual— I know  not  whom — of  the  name  of  Paeon ius,  who 
is  not  even  a Greek,  but  is  some  Mysian,  or  rather  Phrygian ; 
or  that  I was  moved  by  the  vociferations  of  Tuscenius,  that 
frantic,  mean-spirited  wretch,  from  whose  polluted  maw  you, 
with  the  utmost  equity,  rescued  a dishonest  prey.  Wherefore 
^Ye  could  not  easily  maintain  those  and  the  other  instances  of 
severity  which  you  have  practiced  in  that  province,  without  the 
most  perfect  integrity. 

There  should  therefore  be  the  utmost  rigor  in  your  ad- 
ministration of  justice,  so  that  it  should  not  be  affected  by 
favor,  but  maintained  without  variation.^  It  is,  however, 

1 So  impressed  was  Godwin  with  the  supreme  importance  of  uniformi- 
ty and  certainty  in  the  awards  and  inflictions  of  the  law,  that  he  thus 
treats  of  the  subject  of  pardons  as  interfering  with  this  certainty.  “The 
very  word  pardon,  to  a reflecting  mind,  is  fraught  with  absurdity.  What 
is  the  rule  that  ought  in  all  cases  to  direct  my  conduct  ? What  then  is 
clemency  ? It  can  be  nothing  but  the  pitiable  egotism  of  him  who  im- 
agines ho  can  do  some  thing  better  than  justice.”  Is  it  right  that  I 


316 


CICERO  ON  THE 


of  no  great  consequence  that  justice  should  be  impartially  and 
diligently  administered  by  yourself,  unless  the  same  is  done 
by  those  to  whom  you  have  delegated  some  part  of  your 
functions.  Now  it  appears  to  me  that  in  the  government  of 
Asia  there  is  no  great  variety  of  business,  but  that  it  is  chiefly 
employed  in  judicial  administration,  the  method  of  which 
especially  in  j)rovinces  is  simple.  Constancy  and  gravity 
must  indeed  be  exercise,  which  may  be  not  only  above 
partiality,  but  even  above  the  suspicion  of  it.  To  this 
must  be  added  afiability  in  hearing,  calmness  in  determining, 
and  carefulness  in  discussing  the  case  and  making  restitution. 

By  reason  of  these  qualities,  Octavius^  lately  became  most 

should  suffer  constraint  for  a certain  offense  ? The  reasonableness  of  my 
suffering  must  be  founded  in  its  consonance  with  the  general  welfare. 
He,  therefore,  that  pardons  me,  iniquitously  prefers  the  supposed  interest 
of  an  individual,  and  utterly  neglects  what  he  owes  to  the  whole.  He 
bestows  that  which  I ought  not  to  receive,  and  which  he  has  no  right  to 
give.  Is  it  right,  on  the  contrary,  that  I should  not  undergo  the  suffer- 
ing in  question  ? Will  he  by  reseuing  me  from  suffering,  confer  a benefit 
on  me,  and  inflict  no  injury  on  others  ? He  will  then  be  a notorious 
delinquent  if  he  allow  me  to  suffer.  There  is  indeed  a considerable  de- 
fect in  this  last  supposition.  If,  while  he  benefits  me,  he  inflicts  no 
injury  upon  others,  he  is  infallibly  performing  a public  service.  If  I 
suffered  in  the  arbitrary  manner  which  the  supposition  includes,  the  pub- 
lic would  sustain  an  unquestionable  injury  in  the  injustice  that  was  per- 
petrated : and  yet  the  man  who  prevents  this  serious  injustice,  has  been 
accustomed  to  arrogate  to  himself  the  attribute  of  clement,  and  the  ap- 
parently sublime,  but  in  reality  tyrannical,  name  of  forgiveness.  For  if 
he  do,  man  has  been  here  described  instead  of  glory ; ho  ought  to  tako 
shame  to  himself  as  an  enemy  to  human  kind.  If  every  action,  and 
especially  every  action  in  which  the  happiness  of  a rational  being  is  con- 
cerned, bo  susceptible  of  a certain  rule,  mere  caprice  must  be  in  all  cases 
excluded.  There  can  be  no  action  which,  if  I neglect,  I shall  have  dis- 
charged my  duty,  and  if  I perform,  I shall  be  entitled  to  applause.  From 
the  manner  in  which  pardons  are  dispensed,  inevitably  flows  the  uncer- 
tainty of  punishment.  It  is  too  evident  that  punishment  is  inflicted  by 
no  certain  rules,  and,  therefore,  creates  no  uniformity  of  expectation. 
Uniformity  of  treatment,  and  constancy  of  expectation,  form  the  solo 
basis  of  a genuine  morality.  In  a just  form  of  society,  this  would  never 
go  beyond  the  sober  expression  of  those  sentiments  of  approbation  or 
disapprobation,  with  which  different  modes  of  conduct  inevitably  impress 
us  But  if  we  at  present  exceed  this  line,  it  is  surely  an  execrable  re- 
finement of  injustice  that  should  exhibit  the  perpetual  menace  of  suffer- 
ing unaccompanied  with  any  certain  rule  for  telling  its  application.” — 
Godwin’s  Political  Justice,  book  vii.  ch.  ix. 

^ Octavius.  He  was  father  to  Augustus  Cmsar,  and  had  been  about 
this  time  governor  of  Macedonia. 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


317 

popular,  before  whom,  for  the  first  time,  the  lictor  had 
nothing  to  do,  and  the  crier  had  nothing  to  say ; for  every 
one  spoke  when  he  pleased  and  as  long  as  he  pleased.  In 
this  matter  he  might,  perhaps,  seem  too  compliant,  were  it  not 
that  this  gentleness  was  the  warrant  of  his  infiexibility.  The 
men  of  Sylla’s  party  were  compelled  to  restore  what  they  had 
seized  by  force  and  terror.  Such  of  the  magistrates  as  had 
made  unjust  decisions  were  obliged  themselves  to  submit,  as 
private  men,  to  similar  inflictions.  Now  this  severity  on  his 
part  would  have  seemed  cruel,  had  it  not  been  tempered 
with  many  ingredients  of  humanity. 

If  this  gentleness  is  agreeable  at  Rome,  where  there  is  so 
much  arrogance,  such  unbounded  liberty,  such  unrestrained 
licentiousness,  where  there  are  such  numerous  magistracies, 
so  many  auxiliaries,  so  great  force,  and  so  much  authority  in 
the  senate,  how  agreeable  must  the  afiability  of  a prsetor  be 
in  Asia,  where  so  great  a number  of  our  countrymen  and 
allies,  where  so  many  cities  and  so  many  states,  are  observant 
of  one  man’s  nod  ? where  they  have  no  resource,  no  tribunal, 
no  senate,  and  no  assembly  of  the  people  ? It  belongs  there- 
fore to  the  character  of  a great  man,  and  of  a man  as  well 
humane  by  nature,  as  improved  by  learning  and  the  study 
of  the  noblest  arts,  so  to  conduct  himself  in  the  use  of  such 
great  power  as  that  no  other  authority  should  be  desired  by 
those  over  whom  he  rules. 

The  great  Cyrus  is  represented  by  Xenophon  (not  accord- 
ing to  the  truth  of  history,  but  as  the  ideal  model  of  right 
government)  \ whose  extreme  gravity  is  combined  by  that 
philosopher  with  singular  sweetness  of  manners ; which  books 
our  countryman,  Scipio  Africanus,  was  accustomed,  and  not 
without  reason,  always  to  have  in  his  hands,  for  in  them  no 
duty  of  active,  well-tempered  government  has  been  passed 
over ; and  if  Cyrus,  who  could  never  be  reduced  to  a private 
station,  so  diligently  cultivated  those  duties,  what  ought  they 
to  be  held  by  those  to  whom  power  has  been  given  on  con- 
dition of  their  surrendering  it,  and  given  by  those  laws  to 
which  they  must  be  amenable  ? 

Now  it  seems  to  me  that  all  the  considerations  of  those 
who  rule  over  others  should  be  referred  to  this  object,  that 
those  who  are  under  their  government  should  be  as  happy  as 
* See  note,  p.  25 1. 


318 


CICERO  ON  THE 


possible ; and  by  constant  report,  and  tbe  acknowledgment 
of  all,  it  has  become  no  honor  that  this  both  is,  and 
ever  has  been  your  most  settled  principle  ever  since  you 
first  landed  in  Asia ; nay,  that  it  is  the  duty,  not  only 
of  those  who  govern  the  allies  and  the  subjects  of  Eome,  but 
of  those  who  have  the  care  of  slaves  and  dumb  cattle,  to  con- 
tribute to  the  interests  and  welfare  of  all  committed  to  their 
charge.  In  this  respect  I perceive  it  is  universally  allowed 
that  the  utmost  diligence  has  been  used  by  you ; that  no  new 
debts  have  been  contracted  by  the  states ; that  you  have  dis- 
charged many  old  ones  with  which  many  of  the  cities  were 
burdened  and  oppressed ; that  you  have  repaired  many  ruin- 
ous and  almost  abandoned  towns ; among  others  Samus 
the  capital  of  Ionia,  and  Halicarnassus  the  capital  of  Caria; 
that  there  are  no  seditions,  no  discords  in  your  towns ; that 
it  has  been  seen  to  by  you  that  the  states  are  governed  by 
the  councils  of  the  best  men ; that  you  have  suppressed 
rapine  in  Mysia,  and  bloodshed  in  many  places;  that  peace 
has  been  established  all  over  your  province ; that  you  have 
chased  thieves  and  robbers,  not  only  from  the  highways  and 
country  places,  but  from  towns  and  temples,  where  they 
were  more  numerous  and  more  dangerous ; that  calumny, 
that  most  cruel  minister  to  the  avarice  of  praetors,  has  been 
removed  from  the  reputation,  the  fortunes,  and  the  retire- 
ment of  the  rich  ; that  the  funds  and  taxas  of  the  states  are 
equally  borne  by  all  who  inhabit  the  borders  of  those  states ; 
that  access  to  you  is  most  easy ; that  your  ears  are  open  to 
the  complaints  of  all  men  ; that  the  poor  and  the  helpless 
always  find  admittance,  not  only  to  your  public  audiences 
and  tribunals,  but  even  to  your  house  and  your  bed-chamber  ; 
and  that  in  short,  in  the  whole  of  your  government  there  is 
nothing  that  is  spiteful,  nothing  that  is  merciless,  but  that  it 
is  filled  with  clemency,  gentleness,  and  humanity. 

How  important  was  that  public  service  you  performed 
when  you  freed  Asia  from  the  unjust  and  burdensome  tax 
imposed  upon  them  by  the  sediles,  with  great  odium  to  us ; 
for  if  one  man  of  quality  publicly  complains  that  you  have 
deprived  him  of  almost  £100,000,  by  ordering  that  money 
should  not  be  levied  for  public  exhibitions,  what  vast  sums 
must  have  been  raised,  had  the  custom  continued  for  raising 
money  in  the  name  of  all  who  exhibited  public  shows  at 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


319 


Eome.  I stifled  these  complaints  of  our  people,  by  a method 
which,  however  it  may  be  regarded  in  Asia,  is  highly  ap- 
plauded at  Kome ; for  when  the  states  of  my  province  had 
voted  a sum  of  money  for  erecting  a temple  and  a monument 
to  me,  and  when  on  account  of  my  great  deserts  and  your 
extraordinary  services,  they  did  it  voluntarily  and  cheer- 
fully, and  though  the  law  has  expressly  provided,  “ That 
governors  may  receive  money  for  erecting  a temple  or  a 
monument,”  nay,  though  the  money  which  was  granted  was 
not  to  perish,  but  to  bo  laid  out  upon  the  ornaments  of  a 
temple,  that  was  to  appear  to  future  times,  not  more  a pres- 
ent to  me  than  to  the  people  of  Eome,  and  to  the  immortal 
gods  ; and  yet  I thought  that  the  offer  should  be  rejected 
though  warranted  by  dignity,  by  law,  and  by  the  good  will 
of  those  who  made  it ; and  this  I did  for  this  reason,  among 
others,  that  those  magistrates  to  wdiom  such  sums  are  not 
due,  nor  permitted  by  law,  might  bear  (the  refusal  of  them) 
with  a more  resigned  temper. 

Apply  yourse’f  therefore,  with  all  your  spiiit  and  all  your 
zeal,  to  that  pLai  which  you  have  already  practiced,  that  of 
loving  the  people  which  your  country  has  committed  and  en- 
trusted to  your  faithful  care  ; protecting  them  in  every  way, 
and  desiring  that  they  should  be  as  happy  as  possible.^ 

But  if  fortune  had  set  you  over  the  Africans,  the 
Spaniards,  or  the  Gauls,  those  fierce  and  barbarous  nations, 
yet  still  it  would  have  been  the  dictate  of  your  humanity  to 
study  their  interests,  and  to  have  promoted  their  advantage 
and  welfare.  But  when  we  govern  a set  of  men,  among 
whom  civilization  not  only  exists,  but  from  whom  it  may  be 
supposed  even  to  have  extended  to  others,  surely  we  are 
most  especially  bound  to  repay  them  what  we  have  received 
from  them  ; for  I am  not  ashamed  to  acknowledge,  especially 

1 The  only  legitimate  object  of  political  institution,  is  the  advantage 
of  individuals.  All  that  can  not  be  brought  home  to  them,  national 
wealth,  prosperity,  and  glory,  can  be  advantageous  only  to  those  self- 
interested  impostors  who  from  the  earliest  accounts  of  time  have  con- 
founded the  understandings  of  mankind,  the  more  securely  to  sink  them 
n debasement  and  misery.  The  desire  to  gain  a more  extensive  terri- 
tory, to  conquer  or  to  hold  in  awe  our  neighboring  states,  to  surpass  them 
in  arts  or  arms,  is  a desire  founded  in  prejudice  and  error.  Usurped 
authority  is  a spurious  and  unsubstantial  medium  of  happiness;  security 
/ind  peace  are  more  to  be  desired  than  a national  splendor  that  should 
terrify  the  world.” — Godwin’s  Political  Justice,  book  v.  chap.  22. 


320 


CICERO  OX  THE 


in  my  position  in  life,  and  with  the  deeds  which  I have  per- 
formed,  which  can  involve  no  suspicion  of  indolence  or  un- 
steadiness ; that  I have  arrived  at  all  those  accomplishments 
to  which  I have  attained,  by  means  of  those  studies  and  arts 
which  have  been  handed  down  to  us  in  the  remains  and  sys- 
tems of  Greece.  Therefore,  besides  the  common  faith 
which  we  owe  to  all  mankind,  we  seem  to  be  especially  in- 
debted to  this  race  of  men,^  so  that  we  should  be  desirous  of 
offering  to  those,  by  whose  precepts  we  have  been  instructed, 
that  which  we  learned  from  them.  Plato,  that  philosopher, 
so  distinguished  by  his  genius  and  learning,  thought  that 
states  would  then  at  length  be  happy,  when  either  wise  and 
learned  men  should  begin  to  be  their  rulers,  or  when  their 
governors  should  apply  themselves  wholly  to  the  study  of 
learning  and  wisdom ; that  is,  he  thought  that  this  union  of 
power  and  wisdom  would  constitute  the  safety  of  states. 
This  may  possibly,  at  some  time,  be  the  case  of  our  whole 
empire,  but  at  present  it  is  the  case  of  one  province,  that  an 
individual  possesses  the  supreme  power  in  it,  w^ho  has  de- 
voted, from  his  childhood,  the  largest  amount  of  time  and 
study  to  the  pursuit  of  learning,  of  virtue,  and  humanity. 

Take  care,  therefore,  my  Quintus,  that  this  year  which  is 
added  to  your  government,  prove  to  be  a year  that  is  added 
to  the  welfare  of  Asia ; and  because  Asia  has  been  more 
successful  in  detaining  you  than  I was  in  procuring  your 
recall,  do  you  behave  so  as  that  my  regret  may  receive  some 
mitigation  from  the  joy  of  the  province.  For  if  you  have  so 
indefatigably  applied  yourself  to  deserve  greater  honors 
than  perhaps  ever  man  did,  you  ought  to  exert  much  greater 
diligence  in  maintaining  them.  I have  already  given  you  my 
sentiments  concerning  that  kind  of  honors.  I have  always 
been  of  opinion,  that  if  they  are  commonly  accessible  they 
are  worthless ; if  bestowed  to  serve  a purpose,  they  are  con- 
temptible ; but  if  they  are  offered  (as  has  been  done)  as  a 
tribute  to  your  merits,  I think  you  can  not  bestow  too  much 
pains  upon  their  preservation. 

As,  therefore,  you  are  invested  with  the  highest  command 

1 Horace  tacitly  acknowledges  the  same  obligations  to  Greek  litera- 
ture: 

“ Yos  exemplaria  Graeca 
Nocturna  versate  manu,  versate  diurnjj.” 

Epist.  ad  Pisones,  v.  268,  269. 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


321 


and  power  in  those  cities  where  you  see  your  virtues  are 
consecrated  and  deified,  think,  in  all  that  you  arrange,  and 
decree,  and  perform,  what  you  owe  to  such  opinions  on  the 
part  of  mankind,  to  such  flattering  decisions,  and  such  ex- 
alted honors.  The  result  of  this  will  be  that  you  will  pro- 
vide for  all,  that  you  will  remedy  the  ills  of  your  subjects, 
provide  for  their  welfare,  and  desire  to  be  designated  and 
regarded  as  the  parent  of  Asia. 

To  this  zeal  and  assiduity  the  farmers  of  the  revenue  offer 
a great  obstruction.  If  we  oppose  them  we  shall  separate 
from  ourselves  and  from  the  state  an  order  of  men  who  have 
the  highest  claims  upon  us,  and  who  by  me  were  attached 
to  the  service  of  our  government.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
should  indulge  them  in  every  respect,  we  must  suffer  those 
to  be  utterly  ruined,  whose  welfare,  nay,  whose  convenience, 
we  are  bound  to  consult.  This,  if  we  will  view  the  case 
aright,  is  the  sole  difficulty  in  all  your  administration.  For 
to  practice  self-control,  to  subdue  all  inordinate  desires,  to 
regulate  your  family,  to  practice  the  impartial  administra- 
tion of  justice,  to  show  yourself  ready  to  acquaint  yourself 
with  cases,  and  to  admit  and  grant  a hearing  to  individuals, 
are  things  more  glorious  than  difficult,  for  they  consist  not 
in  any  laborious  application,  but  in  the  bent  of  the  mind  and 
of  the  affections. 

We  learned  how  much  bitterness  of  feeling  this  matter  of 
the  farmers  of  the  revenue  occasioned  to  our  allies  from  our 
own  fellow-countrymen ; who,  when  the  tolls  of  Italy  were 
lately  abolished,  complained  not  so  much  of  the  heaviness  of 
the  tolls  as  of  the  insolence  of  the  toll-gatherers,  from  which 
I am  sensible  of  what  must  befall  our  allies  in  remote  coun- 
tries, when  I have  heard  such  complaints  from  our  fellow- 
citizens  in  Italy.  It  seems  to  require  a superhuman  virtue, 
that  is,  one  like  your  own,  in  this  situation  of  things,  to  give 
satisfaction  to  the  farmers  of  the  public  revenue,  especially 
when  the  taxes  have  been  disadvantageously  contracted  for, 
and  at  the  same  time  not  to  suffer  our  allies  to  be  ruined. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  as  to  the  Greeks,  the  hardship 
which  they  most  bitterly  complain  of,  that  of  their  being 
taxed,  is,  in  my  opinion,  no  great  hardship,  because  by  their 
own  constitutions,  apart  from  the  government  of  the  Eoman 
people,  they  were  in  the  same  condition  with  their  own  con- 

14^ 


322 


CICERO  ON  THE 


sent.  As  to  the  name  of  a farmer  of  the  revenue,  the  Greeks 
ought  not  to  hold  it  in  such  contempt,  because,  without  their 
assistance,  they  could  not  have  paid  the  tax  indiscriminately 
imposed  upon  them  by  Sylla.  Now  that  the  Greeks  are  fully 
as  severe  as  our  farmers  are,  in  the  collection  of  the  public 
revenue,  may  be  concluded  from  this,  that  the  Caunians^ 
some  time  ago,  who  inhabit  the  islands  that  were  annexed 
by  Sylla  to  the  division  of  Ehodes,  petitioned  the  senate  that 
they  might  pay  their  taxes  to  us,  rather  than  to  the  Rho- 
dians. They  therefore  who  always  have  been  taxed,  ought 
not  to  hold  the  name  of  a tax-gatherer  with  horror,  nor 
ought  they  to  despise  him,  without  whom  they  can  not  pay 
their  taxes ; nor  ought  they  who  have  petitioned  for  him  to 
reject  him.  The  Asiatics  ought  at  the  same  time  to  reflect, 
that  were  they  not  under  our  government,  no  calamity  of 
foreign  war  and  domestic  discussion  would  ever  have  been 
absent  from  them.  And  since  this  government  can  not  be 
supported  without  taxes,  they  ought  cheerfully  to  purchase 
for  themselves,  with  some  part  of  their  incomes,  an  uninter- 
rupted peace  and  tranquillity.  When  once  they  come  to  en- 
dure with  patience  the  profession  and  name  of  a farmer  of 
the  revenue,  your  prudent  measures  and  conduct  will  be  able 
to  make  other  annoyances  seem  lighter  to  them.  They  will 
come,  not  to  reflect  so  much  in  making  their  compositions 
upon  the  Censorian  Law,  but  rather  upon  the  advantage  of 
settling  the  business,  and  upon  their  freedom  from  molesta- 
tion. You  can  likewise  continue  what  you  have  always  so 
admirably  done,  to  put  them  in  mind  how  much  dignity 
there  is  in  the  office  of  a farmer  of  the  revenue,  and  how 
much  we  owe  to  that  order.  So  that,  apart  from  force  and 
the  influence  of  authority,  and  of  the  fasces,  you  will  bring 
the  publicans  into  favor  and  credit  with  the  Greeks.  You 
may  even  entreat  those  whom  you  have  so  highly  obliged, 
and  who  owe  their  all  to  you,  that  by  their  compliance  they 
wiU  suffer  us  to  cherish  and  continue  those  intimate  con- 
nections that  subsist  between  us  and  the  farmers  of  the 
re'^enue. 

Hut  why  do  I exhort  you  to  those  measures  which  you  are 
not  only  able  to  do  of  your  own  accord  without  the  in- 

Tho  Caunians  were  subjects  of  the  government  of  Quintus,  inhabit- 

I part  of  Caria  in  Asia  Minor. 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


323 


Btructions  of  any  one,  but  which  in  a great  degree  you 
already  have  happily  executed.  For  the  most  honorable 
and  considerable  bodies  of  our  empire  never  cease  to  pay  mo 
their  daily  thanks,  which  are  the  more  agreeable,  because 
the  Greeks  do  the  same.  Now  it  is  a matter  of  great 
difficulty  to  bring  together  in  good  will  those  whose  in- 
terests, whose  advantages,  and  whose  natures,  I had  almost 
said,  are  repugnant.  But  what  I have  here  written,  I have 
written  not  for  your  instruction  (for  wisdom  such  as  yours 
stands  in  need  of  no  man’s  instructions),  but  the  recording  of 
your  merits  delights  me  as  I write.  In  this  letter,  how- 
ever, I have  been  longer  than  I intended  or  supposed  that  I 
should  be. 

There  is  one  thing  which  I shall  not  cease  to  recommend 
to  you,  for  so  far  as  in  me  lies  I will  not  suffer  an  exception 
to  your  praises.  All  who  come  from  that  region,  while  they 
praise  your  virtue,  your  integrity,  and  your  humanity,  even  in 
their  highest  commendations  make  one  exception,  your 
anger ; a vice,  which  in  private  and  every  day  life  seems  to 
be  the  defect  of  an  inconstant  and  weak  mind ; but  when  a 
passionate  behavior  is  joined  to  sovereign  power,  nothing 
can  be  more  monstrous.^  I shall  not,  however,  endeavor  to 

1 “ Anger  is  so  uneasy  a guest  in  the  heart,  that  he  may  be  said  to  bo 
born  unhappy  who  is  of  a rough  and  choleric  disposition.  The  moralists 
have  defined  it  to  be  a desire  of  revenge  for  some  injury  offered.  Men 
of  hot  and  heady  tempers  are  eagerly  desirous  of  vengeance,  the  very 
moment  they  apprehend  themselves  injured ; whereas  the  cool  and  sedate 
watch  proper  opportunities  to  return  grief  for  grief  to  their  enemies.  By 
this  means  it  often  happens  that  the  choleric  inflicts  disproportionate 
punishments  upon  slight  and  sometimes  imaginary  offenses,  but  the  tem- 
perately revengeful,  have  leisure  to  weigh  the  merits  of  the  case,  and 
thereby  either  to  smother  their  secret  resentments  or  to  seek  proper  and 
adequate  reparations  for  the  damages  they  have  sustained.  Weak  minds 
are  apt  to  speak  well  of  the  man  of  fury,  because  when  the  storm  is  over 
he  is  full  of  sorrow  and  repentance,  but  the  truth  is,  he  is  apt  to  commit 
such  ravages  during  his  madUess,  that  when  he  comes  to  himself,  he  be- 
comes tame,  then  for  the  same  reason  that  he  ran  wild  before,  ‘ only  to 
give  himself  ease,’  and  is  a friend  only  to  himself  in  both  extremities. 
Men  of  this  unhappy  make,  more  frequently  than  any  others,  expect 
that  their  friends  should  bear  with  their  infirmities.  Their  friends  should 
in  return  desire  them  to  correct  their  infirmities.  The  common  excuses 
that  they  can  not  help  it,  that  it  was  soon  over,  that  they  harbor  no 
malice  in  their  hearts,  are  arguments  for  pardoning  a bull  or  a mastiff", 
but  shall  never  reconcile  me  to  an  intellectual  savage.  Why  indeed 
should  any  one  imagine,  that  persons  independent  u;  on  him  should 


324 


CICERO  ON  THE 


give  you  the  sentiments  of  the  best  instructed  men,  concern- 
ing the  passion  of  anger,  both  because  I am  unwilling  that 
this  letter  should  be  too  long,  and  because  you  can  easily 
learn  them  from  the  writings  of  many  men.  Still  I do  not 
think  that  one  thing  which  is  proper  to  a letter  should  be 
neglected,  namely,  that  he  to  whom  we  write  should  be 
made  acquainted  with  those  things  of  which  he  is  ignorant. 
Now  I am  told  almost  by  every  body,  that  when  you  are 
free  from  anger,  nothing  can  be  more  agreeable  than  you 
are ; but  when  the  impudence  or  perverseness  of  another  has 
excited  you,  you  are  under  such  violent  agitations  that  your 
kindly  disposition  is  sought  for  in  vain. 

As,  therefore,  a certain  desire  of  glory  as  well  as  interest, 
and  fortune,  have  concurred  to  lead  us  into  that  walk  of  life, 
by  which  we  become  the  perpetual  subject  of  conversation 
among  mankind,  we  ought  to  do  and  to  strive  all  we  can 
that  no  conspicuous  vice  may  be  said  to  attach  to  us.^  I do 

venture  into  his  society  who  hath  not  yet  so  far  subdued  his  boiling 
blood,  but  that  he  is  ready  to  do  some  thing  the  next  minute  which  he 
can  never  repair,  and  hath  nothing  to  plead  in  his  own  behalf  but  that 
he  is  apt  to  do  mischief  as  fast  as  he  can  I Such  a man  may  be  feared, 
he  may  be  pitied,  but  he  can  not  be  loved.” — Dr,  Johnson,  Rambler, 
No.  129. 

1 “ It  is  methinks  an  unreasonable  thing,  that  heroic  virtue  should,  as 
it  seems  to  be  at  present,  be  confined  to  a certain  order  of  men  and  be 
attainable  by  none  but  those  whom  fortune  has  elevated  to  the  most 
conspicuous  stations.  I would  have  every  thing  to  be  esteemed  as  heroic 
which  is  great  and  uncommon  in  the  circumstances  of  the  man  who  per- 
forms it.  Thus  there  would  be  no  virtue  in  human  life,  which  every  one 
of  the  species  would  not  have  a pretense  to  arrive  at,  and  an  ardency  to 
exert.  Since  fortune  is  not  in  our  power,  let  us  be  as  little  as  possible 
in  hers.  Why  should  it  be  necessary  that  a man  should  be  rich  to  be 
generous  ? If  we  measured  by  the  quality  and  not  the  quantity  of  things, 
the  particulars  which  accompany  an  action  is  what  should  denominate  it 
mean  or  great. 

“ The  highest  station  of  human  life  is  to  be  attained  by  each  man  that 
pretends  to  it ; for  every  man  can  be  as  valiant,  as  generous,  as  wise, 
and  as  merciful,  as  the  faculties  and  opportunities  which  he  has  from 
Heaven  and  fortune  will  permit.  He  that  can  say  to  himself,  I do  as 
much  good,  and  am  as  virtuous  as  my  most  earnest  endeavors  wiU  allow 
me,  whatever  is  his  station  in  the  world,  is  to  himself  possessed  of  tho 
highest  honor. 

“If  ambition  is  not  thus  turned,  it  is  no  other  than  a continual  suc- 
cession of  anxiety  and  vexation.  But  when  it  has  this  cast,  it  invigo- 
rates the  mind  and  the  consciousness  of  its  own  worth  is  a reward,  which 
it  is  not  in  tho  power  of  envy,  reproach,  or  detraction,  to  take  from  it. 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


325 


not  now  insist  on  this  consideration,  that  in  human  nature  at 
large,  and  especially  at  our  time  of  life,  it  is  very  difficult  for 
a man  to  alter  his  disposition,  or  suddenly  to  pluck  out  a fail- 
ing that  has  settled  into  a habit.  But  my  advice  to  you  is 
this,  if  you  can  not  altogether  avoid  this,  but  passion  takes 
possession  of  your  mind  before  reason  can  take  precautions 
that  it  should  not  invade  it,  you  should  undergo  a course  of 
preparation,  and  be  every  day  meditating  that  resistance 
must  be  offered  to  anger,  and  the  more  violently  it  affects 
the  mind,  the  more  diligently  must  you  restrain  your  tongue  ; 
which  merit  sometimes  appears  to  me  not  less  than  that  of 
never  being  angry  at  all;  because  the  latter  virtue  is  not 
solely  the  proof  of  self-respect,  but  sometimes  of  a lethargic 
temperament.  But  when  you  are  touched  with  anger,  to 
control  both  your  temper  and  your  language,  even  to  hold 
your  peace,  and  to  keep  under  command  all  excitement  and 
irritation  of  mind ; these  are  the  properties,  if  not  of  consum- 
mate wisdom,  yet  of  extraordinaay  understanding. 

They  say  that  in  this  respect  you  are  become  much  more 
pliable  and  gentle.  None  of  your  violent  emotions  of  passion 
are  stated  to  me;  none  of  your  imprecating  expressions, 
and  opprobrious  behavior,  all  which  are  as  repugnant  to 
authority  and  dignity  as  they  are  reproachful  to  learning 
and  good  breeding.  For  if  angry  passions  are  implacable, 
the  utmost  cruelty  is  involved,  and  if  placable,^  an  excess  of 
weakness ; which,  however,  as  a comparison  of  evils,  is  prefer- 
able to  the  cruelty. 

Thus  the  seat  of  solid  honor  is  in  a man’s  own  bosom,  and  no  one  can 
want  support  who  is  in  possession  of  an  honest  conscience,  but  he  who 
would  suffer  the  reproaches  of  it  for  other  greatness.” — The  Tatler,  No. 
202. 

1 “ Another  form  of  a passionate  disposition  arising  indeed  from  the 
same  cause,  is  that  which  involves  the  next  error  which  I have  stated 
with  respect  to  resentment — ^the  disproportion  of  the  anger  and  the  of- 
fense. He  who  does  not  pause  even  to  weigh  the  circumstances,  can 
not  be  supposed  to  pause  to  measure  the  extent  of  injury.  He  feels  that 
he  is  injured,  and  all  his  anger  bursts  out  instantly  on  the  offender.  It 
is  this  disproportion,  indeed,  which  is  the  chief  evil  of  what  is  commonly 
termed  passion.  Some  cause  of  slight  displeasure  there  may  be  even 
where  anger  in  its  violence  would  be  immoral  and  absurd.  Yet  such 
is  the  infirmity  of  our  nature,  that  it  is  often  no  slight  triumph  over  our 
weakness  to  forgive  a trifle  with  as  much  magnanimity  as  that  with 
which  we  have  forgiven  greater  injuries.” — Dr.  Brown’s  Moral  Phi- 
losophy, Lect.  63, 


326 


CICERO  ON  THE 


That  the  first  year  of  your  government  gave  rise  to  a 
great  deal  of  talk  upon  this  subject  might  be  owing  to  your  un- 
expectedly encountering  that  injustice,  avarice,  and  insolence 
of  individuals,  which  seemed  intolerable.  The  second  year, 
however,  was  more  gentle  ; because  both  habit  and  reason, 
and,  if  I mistake  not,  my  letters  rendered  you  more  mild 
and  patient.  Now  your  third  year  ought  to  admit  of  such 
amendment,  as  that  no  person  may  be  able  to  utter  the 
slightest  reproach. 

And  on  this  subject  I address  you  in  the  terms  neither  of 
exhortation  nor  precept,  but  of  brotherly  entreaty,  that  you 
employ  your  whole  abilities,  care,  and  concern,  in  accumu- 
lating praise  from  all  quarters.^  If  our  situation  were  one 
of  mediocrity  as  to  public  conversation  and  discourse, 
nothing  pre-eminent  would  be  required  of  you,  nothing 
beyond  the  ordinary  conduct  of  others.  But  by  reason  of 
the  splendor  and  magnitude  of  the  concerns  in  which  we 
are  engaged,  unless  we  derive  the  highest  glory  from  these 
functions,  we  seem  scarcely  capable  of  avoiding  the  deepest 
condemnation.  We  are  so  situated,  that  while  all  good  men 
are  our  friends,  they  also  require  and  expect  from  us, 
all  application  and  virtue ; in  the  mean  while,  all  the  repro- 
bate part  of  mankind,  because  with  them  we  have  declared 
eternal  war,  seem  to  be  satisfied  with  the  slightest  ground  for 
condemning  us. 

Wherefore,  since  such  a theater  as  Asia  has  been  assigned 
you  for  the  display  of  your  virtues,  a theater  most  celebrated 
by  fame,  most  ample  in  extent,  most  distinguished  by  dis- 
cernment, but  naturally  so  noisy  that  its  expressions  and 
intimations  reach  even  to  Rome,  I pray  you  to  strive  and 
labor  to  appear,  not  only  adequate  to  these  conditions,  but 
by  your  merits  to  have  surpassed  them  all ; and  as  fortune 
has  fixed  my  share  of  the  public  administration  in  Rome,  and 


1 “ Make  not  the  consequence  of  virtue  the  ends  thereof.  Be  not 
beneficent  for  a name  or  cymbal  of  applause,  nor  exact  and  just  in  com- 
merce for  the  advantages  of  trust  and  credit,  which  attend  the  reputation 
of  true  and  punctual  dealing.  Eor  these  rewards,  though  unsought  for, 
plain  virtue  will  bring  with  her.  To  have  other  objects  in  good  actions 
Rours  laudable  performances,  which  must  have  deeper  roots,  motives,  and 
instigations,  to  give  them  the  stamp  of  virtues.” — Sir  Thomas  Browne’s 
Christian  Morals,  Book  i.  chap.  10. 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTEATE. 


327 


^ours  in  Asia,  while  I yield  to  none  in  my  conduct,  do  you 
excel  all  in  yours. 

At  the  same  time  reflect  that  we  are  not  now  laboring 
for  a glory  that  is  in  expectation  and  reversion ; but  we  are 
struggling  for  what  has  been  attained,  a glory  that  we  are 
not  so  much  to  covet  as  to  preserve.  Indeed,  had  I any 
interest  that  is  distinct  from  yours,  I could  desire  nothing 
more  than  that  situation  of  life  which  has  actually  been 
assigned  to  me ; but  as  the  case  is,  that  unless  all  your  words 
and  actions  are  answerable  to  my  conduct  here,  I shall  think 
that  I have  gained  nothing  by  all  those  mighty  toils  and 
dangers  in  all  which  you  have  been  a sharer.  Now  if  you 
were  my  chief  fellow  laborer  in  working  my  way  to  this 
splendid  reputation,  you  ought  to  labor  beyond  others  that 
I may  maintain  it. 

You  are  not  to  regard  the  opinion  and  the  judgment  of 
those  who  are  now  living,  but  also  of  those  who  shall  here- 
after exist,  whose  verdict  will  be  the  more  just  as  it  will  be 
free  from  detraction  and  malevolence.  In  the  next  place, 
you  are  to  reflect,  that  you  are  not  seeking  glory  for  yourself 
alone ; and,  if  you  were,  you  would  not  be  indifierent  about 
it,  especially  as  you  have  thought  proper  to  consecrate  the 
memory  of  your  name  by  the  noblest  memorials,  but  you  are 
to  share  it  with  me,  and  it  is  to  descend  to  our  posterity. 
You  are  therefore  to  beware,  lest  if  you  should  be  careless 
you  should  seem  not  only  to  have  neglected  your  owm 
interests,  but  to  have  acted  grudgingly  even  to  your  de- 
scendants. 

And  these  things  are  said,  not  that  my  words  may  seem  to 
have  aroused  you  when  slumbering,  but  that  they  may  en- 
courage you  in  your  career ; for  you  will  continually  act  as 
you  have  acted,  so  that  all  may  praise  your  equity,  your 
moderation,  your  inflexibility,  and  your  integrity.  But 
through  my  excessive  affection  for  you,  I am  possessed  with 
an  insatiable  passion  for  your  glory.  In  the  mean  while  I 
am  of  opinion,  that  as  you  must  be  now  as  well  acquainted 
with  Asia  as  any  man  is  with  his  own  house ; ^ and  as  so 

^ This  would  seem  to  have  been  a proverbial  simile.  Juvenal  has  the 
same  : — 

“ Nota  magis  nulli  domus  est  qua,  quam  mihi  lucus 
Martis,”  etc.,  Sat.  I.  v.  I. 


328 


DUTIES  OF  A MAGISTRATE. 


great  experience  has  been  added  to  your  great  wisdom,  there 
is  nothing  that  pertains  to  glory  of  which  you  are  not  fully 
sensible,  and  which  does  not  daily  occur  to  your  min^ 
without  the  exhortation  of  any.  But  I who,  when  I read 
your  letters,  think  I hear  you,  and  when  I write  to  you 
think  I converse  with  you,  am  more  delighted  with  your 
letters  the  longer  they  are,  and  for  the  same  reason  I myself 
also  am  more  prolix  in  writing. 

In  conclusion  I exhort  and  entreat  you,  that  just  as  good 
poets  and  skillful  actors  are  wont  to  do,  so  you  will  redouble 
your  attention  at  this  the  latter  part  and  conclusion  of  your 
business  and  oflSce ; that  this  last  year  of  your  government, 
like  the  last  act  of  a play,  may  appear  the  most  elaborate  and 
perfect.  This  you  will  most  easily  do,  if  you  think  that  I, 
whom  individually  you  have  endeavored  to  please  more  than 
all  the  world  besides,  am  ever  present  with  you,  and  take  an 
interest  in  all  that  you  do  or  say.  Lastly,  I entreat  you,  as 
you  value  my  welfare,  and  that  of  all  your  friends,  that  you 
will  most  carefully  attend  to  your  health. 


INDEX. 


Academics  little  differing  from  the 
Peripatetics,  2,  6,  8 ; have  a right 
to  treat  about  duties,  2 ; how  dif- 
fering from  the  Skeptics,  and  why 
they  dispute  against  every  thing, 
79  ; are  not  tied  to  a set  of  opin- 
ions, 120;  formerly  the  same 
with  the  Peripatetics,  121. 

Accusing,  how  far  allowable,  96. 

Acilius,  the  historian,  166. 

Acknowledgment,  a sufficient  re- 
turn for  a kindness,  106. 

Acropolis,  its  entrance,  102. 

Action  gives  a true  value  to  virtue, 
1 3 ; to  take  place  of  speculation, 
13,  74,  76;  not  to  be  ventured 
on,  if  we  doubt  of  its  honesty, 
18  ; should  be  free  from  rashness, 
etc.,  52 ; three  rules  to  be  ob- 
served for  keeping  decorum  in 
our  actions,  68 ; order  and  reg- 
ularity to  be  observed  in  our 
actions,  69 ; these  depend  upon 
time  and  place,  69  ; good  actions 
ill  applied  become  bad  ones,  103. 

Actors  choose  the  parts  fittest  for 
their  humors,  57 ; respect  mod- 
esty, 67. 

Addison,  Joseph,  quoted,  142,  254, 
255,  258,  281,  300. 

Admiration,  how  moved  in  men, 
90,  91. 

Advantages  tempt  men  to  be 
rogues,  131. 

Advice  of  friends  to  be  asked  in 
prosperity,  47  ; of  experienced 
men,  in  doubt,  7 0 ; rules  about 
taking  this  advice,  72. 

Advocates  may  plead  for  what  is 
not  really  true,  97. 

^diles,  who,  and  their  magnifi- 
cence, 100. 


Affability  wins  people’s  love,  95. 

Affectation  odious,  64. 

Africanus,  his  saying  that  men 
grown  proud,  etc.,  47  ; his  retire- 
ment and  saying  that  he  was 
never  less  idle,  etc.,  115;  Afric. 
the  younger  razes  Carthage,  and 
Numantia,  39 ; son  of  Paulus,  60 ; 
not  to  bo  corrupted  by  money,  109. 

Agamemnon  sacrificed  his  daugh- 
ter, 156. 

Agreement  between  the  several 
orders  the  support  of  a state,  151. 

Agriculture  commended,  73 ; its  va- 
rious pleasures  described,  240,  etc. 

Ajax,  his  character,  57. 

Alexander  Pheraeus  the  tyrant,  86. 

Alexander  the  G-reat,  often  guilty 
of  great  vices,  47  ; reproved  by 
his  father  for  giving  money,  99. 

Ambition,  a great  cause  of  in- 
justice, 16,  34;  is  generally  in 
men  of  the  greatest  souls,  ib. ; is 
contrary  to  true  courage,  34,  36 ; 
robs  a man  of  his  liberty,  36 ; is 
destructive  to  a state,  45,  149. 

Anger  against  adversaries  to  be 
avoided,  46 ; especially  in  pun- 
ishing, ih. ; also  in  common  dis- 
course ; in  chiding,  and  in 
quarrels,  66,  319. 

Annicerian  philosophers,  166. 

Antipater  the  stoic,  112,  135. 

Antonius  Marcus,  the  subject  of 
Padox  V.,  277;  subservient  to 
Cleopatra,  280. 

Antoninus  quoted,  13. 

Appelles’s  Venus,  117. 

Applause,  the  desire  of  it  to  be 
avoided,  34,  36. 

Aquillius’s  Formulae,  138. 

Arates  the  Sicyonian,  110. 


330 


INDEX. 


Archytas,  saying  of,  206,  235. 

Aristippus,  71,  166. 

Aristo,  6. 

Aristotle,  neglected  eloquence,  2 ; 
his  opinion  about  shows  to  the 
people,  etc.,  100 ; makes  honesty 
far  outweigh  aU  other  goods,  128 ; 
quoted,  7. 

Armies  of  little  use  abroad,  with- 
out prudence  at  home,  etc.,  39. 

Assent  not  to  be  given  hastily,  12. 

Athens,  a famous  university,  1,  116. 

Athenians  make  a cruel  edict,  132  ; 
forsake  their  city  for  fear  of  the 
Persians,  ih. ; reject  a dishonest 
proposal,  etc.,  134. 

Atihus,  L.,  171. 

Avarice,  one  great  cause  of  injustice, 
15,  16;  a sign  of  a narrow  and 
sordid  spirit,  36  ; magistrates 
should  be  free  from  suspicion  of 
it,  108  ; is  destructive  to  a state, 
109. 

Augustine  quoted,  17. 

Bacon,  Lord,  quoted,  113,  174, 
188,  204,  228,  240,  265,  280, 
282,  289,  296. 

Bardylis  the  Illyrian,  91. 

Bargains  should  be  made  at  a 
word,  139. 

Beauty  of  two  sorts,  63 ; how  to 
be  gotten,  ib. 

Becoming;  see  Decency. 

Benefits ; how  we  should  judge  of 
their  value,  27 ; done  either  by 
our  money  or  industry,  98;  re- 
late either  to  the  repubhc,  or 
to  individuals,  104,  etc.;  upon 
whom  best  bestowed,  105,  106. 

Bentham,  Jeremy,  quoted,  5. 

Bias  of  Priene,  saying  of,  265. 

Body  should  be  inured  to  labor,  40. 
The  care  nature  has  taken  in  its 
fabric  62. 

Bounty ; see  Liberality. 

Boys  not  allowed  all  sorts  of  plays, 
53. 

Bragging  very  unbecoming,  67. 

Bribery  in  magistrates,  the  ruin  of 
a republic,  108,  109;  laws  made 
against  it  by  the  Romans,  109. 


Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  quoted,  6,  35, 
36,  83,  96,  172,  176,  207,  247, 
253,  257,  261,  277,  278,  321. 

Brown,  Dr.  T.,  7,  10,  149,  150,  161, 
170, 176,  208,  212,  256,  259,  321. 

Brutes,  how  differing  from  men,  9 ; 
we  often  talk  of  their  courage, 
but  not  justice,  etc.,  28.* 

Brutus  deposed  Collatinus,  131; 
decrees  the  augur,  172. 

Building ; its  extent  and  object,  68. 

Butler,  Bishop,  quoted,  4,  51,  299. 

Buyers  should  not  use  arts  to  bate 
down  the  prices,  139. 

C^SAR,  brother  of  Catulus,  a face- 
tious man,  65. 

Caesar  broke  through  the  most 
sacred  ties  for  the  sake  of  em- 
pire, 16;  robbed  some  that  ho 
might  be  generous  to  others,  26 ; 
was  murdered  for  his  tyranny, 
triumphs  over  Marseilles,  etc., 
loved  villainy,  though  he  got 
nothing  by  it,  112;  makes  him- 
self king  of  the  Romans,  etc., 
150. 

Callicratidas,  too  careful  of  his  own 
honor,  43 ; a lover  of  simplicity, 
55. 

Calling ; see  Life. 

Callipho  and  Dinomachus  join  pleas- 
ure and  virtue,  167. 

Ka-&?}Kov,  what,  7. 

Cannius’s  bargain,  137. 

Carriage  toward  all  men  to  be 
taken  care  of]  15,  63. 

Carthaginians  treacherous,  23. 

Cato  Censorius,  his  letter  to  Po- 
pilius,  22  ; caused  the  third 
Carthaginian  war,  40 ; liis  ap- 
ophthegms, 53  ; his  answer 
about  managing  an  estate,  113. 

Cato,  father  to  Uticensis,  his  de- 
termination of  a case,  140. 

Cato  Uticensis’s  genius,  56;  too 
headstrong  in  standing  up  for 
the  interest  of  the  republic,  152. 

Kar6p(f>io/iia,  what,  7. 

Catulus  not  inferior  to  Pompey, 
39 ; Catuli  counted  the  best 
speaker,  65. 


INDEX. 


331 


Chiding  sometimes  necessary,  6G ; 
rules  to  be  observed  in  it,  67. 

Children  naturally  loved,  10. 

Chrysippus’s  excellent  saying,  131. 

Cicero’s  service  to  his  countrymen 
by  writing,  1 ; assumes  to  him- 
self the  virtue  of  an  orator,  etc., 
ib. ; his  prudent  management  of 
the  republic,  112;  got  his  prefer- 
ments by  all  the  votes,  102  ; be- 
takes himself  to  retirement,  115 ; 
designed  to  have  gone  to  Athens, 
168 ; quoted,  3,  254,  397,  308. 

Oimbers  and  Celtibers,  23. 

Cimon  of  Athens’s  hospitality,  104. 

Circumstances  of  men  to  be  re- 
garded in  giving,  15, 103 ; make 
that  not  to  be  a crime,  which 
usually  is  one,  120. 

Cities,  in  taking  them,  nothing  to 
to  be  done  cruelly,  etc.,  43 ; the 
great  use  of  them,  81 ; why  at 
first  built,  107,  109. 

Citizens’  duties,  62. 

Clarendon,  Lord,  quoted,  214. 

Claudius  Centumalus,  140. 

Clemency,  how  far  laudable,  45. 

Cleombrotus  beaten  by  Epaminon- 
das,  43. 

Clodius  proved  to  be  amadman,  275. 

Clothes,  only  health  to  be  regarded 
in  them,  54;  moderation  to  be 
observed  in  the  fineness  of  them, 
64. 

Clownishness  to  be  avoided,  62,  64. 

Cockman,  Dr.  quoted,  156. 

Common ; all  things  at  first  were 
so,  14 ; what  things  are  common 
to  all,  25. 

Company ; a man  would  be  weary 
of  his  life  without  it,  74 ; to  keep 
company  with  good  and  wise 
men  recommends  young  people, 
94. 

Conceal,  how  difiering  from  not  to 
tell,  135  ; what  it  is,  136. 

Concord,  a pillar  of  any  state,  109. 

Confidence ; see  Trust. 

Constantia^  what  it  is,  35. 

Corinth  razed  by  the  Eomans,  21, 
133. 

Coriolanus,  186. 


Correction;  see  Chiding,  Punish- 
ment. 

Coruncanius,  T.,  187. 

Covetousness ; see  Avarice. 

Countenance  to  be  kept  always  the 
same,  without  dejection,  47. 

Counterfeit;  nothing  can  be  last- 
ing that  is  such,  92. 

Country  claims  a share  in  us,  15  ; 
the  love  we  have  for  it  swallows 
up  all  other  loves,  32;  their 
wickedness  who  injure  it,  ih.; 
every  one  that  is  able  ought  to 
serve  it,  35  ; should  be  preferred 
even  before  parents,  32,  76,  153. 

Courage  is  a virtue  contending  for 
honesty,  34 ; an  enemy  to  treach- 
ery, etc.,  ib. ; to  desire  of  ap- 
plause, 35 ; consists  in  two  things, 
ib. ; is  obtained  by  the  mind,  not 
the  body,  40 ; in  war,  recom- 
mends young  men,  93 ; teaches 
us  to  fear  nothing,  etc.,  158; 
nothing  profitable  that  is  con- 
trary to  it,  ib. 

Craft;  see  Cunning. 

Crassus,  Marc.,  his  saying  about 
riches,  15  ; made  heir  by  a false 
will,  144 ; a bad  man,  145. 

Crassus,  Luc.,  an  orator,  65 ; got 
honor  by  an  accusation,  94. 

Crassus  the  wealthy,  sedile,  95. 

Cratippus,  who  he  was,  179. 

Cruelty  most  contrary  to  nature,  91. 

Cunning  far  from  true  wisdom,  33, 
80,  143 ; the  great  mischief  of 
it,  ib.;  doth  not  excuse  from 
perjury,  but  rather  aggravates  it, 
165. 

Curius,  Marcus,  187,  242 ; Manius, 
282,  285. 

Custom  and  civil  constitutions  to 
be  followed,  7 0 ; some  may  act 
against  them,  and  others  not,  71. 

Cynics  argue  against  modesty,  63 ; 
to  be  wholly  rejected,  72. 

Cyrenaic  philosophers,  166. 

Cyrus,  anecdote  of,  244 ; dying  ad- 
dress of,  257. 

Dancing  in  the  streets  scandalous, 
145,  156, 


332 


INDEX. 


Danger,  how  far  to  be  undertaken, 
43  ; we  should  endanger  our- 
selves rather  than  the  public,  ih. 

Death  not  terrible  to  the  great  and 
good,  2 'll. 

Debts  forgiven,  etc.,  109,  110  ; gov- 
ernors should  hinder  people  from 
running  into  debt,  112. 

Deceit  frees  a man  from  being 
bound  by  his  promise,  18. 

Decency  (or  gracefulness)  observed 
by  a man  only,  9 ; inseparable 
from  honesty,  48  ; is  seen  in  all 
the  parts  of  honesty,  ih.;  two 
sorts  of  it  universal  and  particu- 
lar, 49;  draws  the  approbation 
of  all,  50 ; relates  both  to  body 
and  mind,  ih. ; nothing  decent 
that  is  contrary  to  a man’s 
genius,  51 ; decency  of  living 
according  to  universal  nature, 
50,  52  ; according  to  each  man’s 
particular  one,  55  ; according  to 
one’s  place  or  station  in  the 
world,  58  ; is  seen  in  our  words, 
actions,  etc.,  62  j in  our  eyes, 
hands,  etc.,  63. 

Decorum  of  the  poets,  49. 

Defending  more  laudable  than  to 
accuse,  96;  to  defend  a guilty 
person  lawful,  9t. 

Define ; the  subject  of  a discourse 
ought  to  be  defined  at  the  be- 
ginning, 1. 

Deliberation,  five  heads  of  it,  8 ; in 
some  cases  sinful,  120,  129. 

Demet.  Phalereus,  who  he  was,  2 ; 
blames  Pericles,  102. 

Demetrius  forsaken  by  the  Mace- 
donians, 86. 

Demosthenes,  a hearer  of  Plato,  2 ; 
at  what  age  he  began  his  study, 
94. 

Desire  of  riches,  etc. ; see  Avarice, 
Ambition. 

Despising  different  from  having  a 
bad  opinion  of,  91. 

Dicsearchus’s  book  about  the  De- 
struction of  Men,  82. 

Difficult  subjects ; see  Study.  Diffi- 
culty makes  a thing  more  honor- 
able, 31. 


Diogenes  and  Antipater  dispute, 
134. 

Dion  Caught  by  Plato,  15. 

Dionysius,  the  Sicilian  tyrant,  ^5. 

Direct  a wandering  traveler,  28. 

Discourse:  variety  in  men’s  ways 
of  it,  55 ; not  to  be  dressed  up 
with  Greek  expressions,  56;  of 
two  sorts,  65,  95 ; common  dis- 
course should  be  easy,  etc.,  ih. ; 
free  from  passion,  etc.,  61 ; should 
be  agreeable  to  the  subject  wo 
discourse  upon,  65,  69. 

Disputing  of  two  sorts,  by  reason 
and  by  force,  21. 

Dissimulation  should  be  excluded, 
138. 

Dolus  malus,  what,  131 ; punished 
by  the  civil  laws,  139. 

Donations  to  the  people,  when  al- 
lowable, 101,  102. 

Doubt : we  should  do  nothing  of 
which  we  doubt  whether  it  is 
honest  or  not,  18;  in  cases  of 
doubt  ask  experienced  men’s  ad- 
vice, 10. 

Dunlop,  John,  quoted,  301. 

Dreams  evince  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  251 ; not  prophetic, 
289. 

Duties : the  whole  subject  of  them 
consists  of  two  parts,  1 ; middle 
and  perfect  ones,  ih.^  119,  120; 
incumbent  on  us  in  every  part 
of  our  lives,  3;  greater  ones  to 
take  place  before  less,  18 ; duty 
to  parents  adorns  a young  man, 
94. 

Dymond,  Jonathan,  quoted,  24,  44, 
56,  93,  91,  128,  154,  119. 

Earth,  the,  its  diminutiveness  in 
the  universe,  292 ; too  wide  to 
be  pervaded  by  fame,  296. 

Edmonds,  C.  R.,  quoted,  226. 

Education  of  youth  a laudable  em- 
ployment, 13  ; makes  many  use- 
ful men,  etc.,  15. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  quoted,  4. 

Effeminacy  to  be  avoided,  143  ; 
see  Niceness.  Its  signification, 
54. 


INDEX. 


333 


Eloquence  preferable  to  acute 
thinking,  15  ; its  great  force, 
etc.,  80;  its  downfall  in  Rome, 

V 105 ; gives  one  opportunities  of 
obliging  many,  106. 

Empedocles,  182. 

Enemies,  by  the  old  Romans  called 
strangers,  22  ; justice  to  be  kept 
toward  them,  20,  23,  160;  dif- 
ference of  carriage  to  be  observ- 
ed toward  them,  23  ; none  to  be 
reckoned  enemies,  but  who  take 
up  arms  against  the  state,  44. 

Ennius,  quoted,  16,  28. 

Epicurus  ruins  all  virtue,  3,  166; 
makes  happiness  consist  in  pleas- 
ure, 161 ; endeavors  to  explain 
this  away,  but  in  vain,  ih. 

Estate,  how  to  be  gotten,  bettered, 
etc.,  43,  112,  113  ; it  is  a scandal 
to  ruin  it  by  neglect,  103  ; what 
the  best  that  can  bo  left  to  a 
son,  60. 

Evenness  of  temper,  a part  of  cou- 
rage, 41. 

Evils:  the  least  to  be  chosen,  115, 
158,  160;  those  of  body  and 
fortune  less  than  those  of  the 
soul,  122. 

Euripides,  quoted,  149,  163. 

Eira^/a,  what  it  signifies,  68. 

Exacting  to  be  avoided  in  dealings 
with  others,  103. 

Exercise  requisite  to  make  men 
perfect,  32. 

Extraordinary  things  move  admira- 
tion, 90. 

Eabius  Labeo’s  (Q.)  trick,  19; 
Eab.  Maximus’s  wise  delaying, 
43  ; his  subtilty  and  cunning,  54. 

Eabricius’s  justice,  24,  119,  151. 

Eaith  the  foundation  of  justice,  15  ; 
set  up  in  the  capitol  next  to 
Jupiter,  160;  to  be  kept  with 
enemies,  161 ; see  Oaths. 

Fame,  its  transiency,  298. 

Fannius,  C.  and  Scmvola  and  C. 
Lelius,  interlocutor  in  the  dia- 
logue on  Friendship,  111,  etc. 

Fathers  often  followed  in  course  of 
life  by  their  sons,  58 ; rules  to 


be  observed  in  imitating  them, 
66;  whether  to  be  accused  by 
their  sons,  should  they  plot 
against  the  state,  153. 

Fear,  one  cause  of  injustice,  15  ; 
promises  made  through  fear  not 
binding,  19 ; an  improper  way 
of  getting  men  to  be  of  our  side, 
and  the  ill  consequences  of  it, 
85,  81. 

Fecial  law  of  the  Romans,  22,  163. 

Fides  derived  by  the  Stoics,  15  ; ex 
fide  hona^  a form  in  law,  142. 

Fighting,  when  laudable,  41. 

Fimbria  judge  in  a case,  146. 

Flatterers  to  be  avoided,  41 ; estates 
got  by  flattery,  scandalous,  145. 

Flattery  condemned,  211. 

Force  and  fraud,  the  two  ways  of 
injuring  men,  the  latter  more 
odious,  32;  a courageous  man 
can  not  be  forced,  165. 

Forms  in  judgment,  138;  the  gen- 
eral form  or  rule,  122. 

Fortune  must  yield  to  nature,  60 ; 
her  influence  upon  the  good  or 
ill  success  of  actions,  83;  blind 
and  blinds  her  votaries,  193  ; 
every  man  master  of  his  own, 
21 9-;  seditions  will  never  bo 
wanting  while  men  hope  to 
make  their  fortunes  by  them, 
88  ; to  bo  transported  with  good 
or  ill  fortune  shows  a mean 
spirit,  61. 

Foster,  John,  quoted,  40,  219,  295. 

Freedom,  wherein  it  consists,  35. 

Fretfulness  upon  unseasonable 
visits,  etc.,  to  be  avoided,  46. 

Friends  necessary  for  all,  88;  all 
common  among  friends,  28  ; the 
counsel  of  friends  should  be 
asked,  41 ; men  are  born  for 
their  friends,  as  well  as  them- 
selves, ih.;  corrections,  counsel, 
etc.,  due  among  friends,  32;  how 
much  may  be  done  for  the  sake 
or  a friend,  132;  Damon  and 
Phinthias  two  friends,  ih. ; close- 
ness of  union  between  friends, 
31. 

Friendship  makes  many  become 


334 


INDEX. 


one,  31 ; is  cemented  by  likeness 
of  manners,  ih. ; to  be  broken  off 
by  little  and  little,  60  ; of  0. 
Lselius  and  P.  Scipio,  IIO,  214; 
superior  to  relationship,  180  ; 
exists  between  but  few,  ib. ; a 
union  of  sentiment,  180  ; adorns 
prosperity,  and  solaces  adversity, 
181 ; of  Orestes  and  Pylades, 
182 ; founded  on  virtue,  184, 
185,  204;  and  sincerity,  197; 
subverted  by  avarice  and  ambi- 
tion, 186;  does  not  excuse  in- 
justice, 188,  189;  the  greatest  of 
blessings,  190;  this  universally 
admitted,  204;  care  to  be  em- 
ployed in  contracting  it,  195 ; 
old  friendship  better  than  new, 
198;  description  of;  201;  ruined 
by  flattery,  208. 

Gait  should  not  be  too  slow,  etc.,  63. 

Generals  of  the  Romans  dehvered 
to  their  enemies,  163. 

Genius;  see  Nature. 

Geometricians’  method,  ]27. 

Genteel  jests,  53  ; carriage,  63. 

Glory  made  up  of  three  ingredients, 
89 ; Cicero  wrote  two  books 
about  it,  88  ; must  be  used  with 
discretion,  and  what  the  shortest 
cut  to  it,  92,  94 ; not  to  be  gotten 
by  counterfeit,  92 ; but  by  just- 
ice, 93 ; can  not  be  durable  un- 
less founded  upon  virtue,  107  ; 
inconsistent  with  wickedness, 
151. 

Gods;  duties  to  them  to  be  per- 
formed first,  7 6 ; how  their  favor 
may  be  procured,  80 ; they  never 
hurt,  ib. ; are  never  angry,  160. 

Godwin,  William,  quoted,  24,  120, 
126,  153,  160,  292,  313. 

Good  fortune,  it  is  the  sign  of  a 
low  spirit  to  bo  transported  with 
it,  61. 

Good  men,  so  called  from  justice, 
13,  91;  who,  139,  145;  very 
hard  to  be  found,  ib. ; it  is  al- 
ways profitable  to  be  one,  ib. ; 
good  men  desire  honesty,  not 
Bccresy,  130. 


Good-will ; see  Love. 

Government  of  a state  like  the 
office  of  a guardian,  44  ; the 
several  duties  of  those  that  gov- 
ern, 108. 

Gownsmen  as  useful  as  soldiers, 
39,  40. 

Gracchus,  father  of  the  two  Gracchi, 
93;  his  sons  justly  slain,  ib.; 
ruined  by  their  leveling  princi- 
ciples,  110;  Tiberius,  187,  188. 

Gratidianus,  141. 

Gratitude  a most  necessary  dut}% 
in  which  we  should  imitate  fruit- 
ful fields,  27;  all  people  hate 
one  that  is  not  grateful,  103. 

Greatness  of  soul  natural  to  man, 
11;  what  it  appears  in,  10;  in- 
clines men  to  ambition,  34;  is 
often  too  hot,  27  ; usually  made 
most  account  of  in  the  world, 
33 ; necessary  for  statesmen 
more  than  philosophers,  36;  its 
description,  and  how  it  differs 
from  greatness  of  understanding, 
41 ; seen  even  in  a retired  life, 
48 ; is  savageness  if  not  accom- 
panied with  justice,  75;  see 
Courage. 

Greek  and  Latin  to  be  joined,  1 ; 
to  bring  Greek  into  discourse 
ridiculous,  56;  Greeks  deceitful 
and  treacherous,  311. 

Grotius,  quoted,  14,  22. 

Guardian,  the,  quoted,  124. 

Guthrie,  Wm.,  quoted,  13,  36,  87, 
289,  296,  300,  305. 

Guilty  persons  may  sometimes  be 
defended,  97. 

Gyge’s  ring,  19,  130,  147. 

Hall,  Robert,  quoted,  29,  30,  31, 
62,  177,  184,  203,  215,  261,  302. 

Hannibal  cruel,  21;  sends  ten  to 
Rome  after  the  fight  at  Cannaj, 
23,  166. 

Hastiness,  the  passion  should  not 
through  haste  outrun  reason,  52. 

Hate  able  to  ruin  the  greatest 
power,  85,  87. 

Haughtiness  in  prosperity  to  bo 
avoided,  47. 


INDEX. 


335 


Health,  how  to  be  preserved,  112. 

Heaven ; a certain  place  in  it  as- 
signed to  patriots,  290 ; magni- 
tude of,  292 ; what  constitutes  a 
cycle  of  the  heavens,  298. 

Hecaton  the  Rhodian,  139,  152. 

Help ; not  to  help  the  injured,  if 
we  can,  is  injustice,  15. 

Hercules  sees  too  ways,  59 ; is 
placed  among  the  gods,  123. 

Herillus  exploded,  6. 

Herodotus  the  historian,  92. 

Hesiod’s  rule,  27. 

Hire ; the  worst  means  of  winning 
men  to  our  side,  84. 

Ilonestum^  whence  it  results,  11 ; 
laudable  in  itself,  ib. ; would 
make  the  world  in  love  with  it, 
could  it  be  seen,  %b. ; shows  it- 
self by  its  own  brightness,  18; 
entitles  a man  to  our  liberality, 
26,  27,  106;  more  especially  de- 
serves our  study,  80 ; naturally 
pleases  men,  89 ; is  the  same 
with  profit,  118,  128,  etc. ; hon- 
est man,  who,  146. 

Honor;  the  desire  of  it  tempts  men 
to  injustice,  147. 

Horace,  quoted,  7,  123,  238,  266, 
316. 

Hortensius,  sedile,  101 ; uses  a false 
will,  144. 

Hospitality  to  be  kept  by  great 
men,  68 ; praised  deservedly  by 
Theophrastus,  104. 

Hostis,  its  signification  among  the 
old  Romans,  22. 

Hot  counsels  and  designs  preferred 
by  some,  42. 

House  ; of  what  sort  becomes  a 
great  man,  68 ; the  master  should 
be  an  honor  to  his  house,  ib. 

Humility  requisite  in  prosperity,  47. 

Hume,  David,  quoted,  9,  25,  56, 
65,  120,  123,  143,  248. 

Hunting ; a manly  recreation,  53. 

Hypocrisy  should  be  banished  out 
of  the  world,  138;  repugnant  to 
friendship,  209. 

Jesting,  in  what  kind  and  degree 
allowable,  53. 


Immortality  of  the  soul  asserted, 
174,  175;  its  return  to  heaven 
the  most  ready  in  the  case  of  the 
virtuous  and  the  just,  176,  302; 
if  the  doctrine  is  false,  death  is 
no  evil,  177,  262;  argued  from 
the  uncompounded  nature  of  the 
soul,  256;  from  the  phenomena 
of  sleep,  257  ; held  by  the  Italian 
philosophers,  255 ; aspired  after 
by  the  greatest  men,  260  ; glori- 
ous hopes  connected  with  it, 
brings  about  the  re-union  of  the 
good  in  heaven,  261. 

Improvising;  the  practice  of  the 
Greeks,  178. 

Individuals ; nothing  to  be  done 
for  them  that  is  a damage  to  the 
public,  107  ; should  not  have 
interests  separate  from  the  pub- 
lic, 124. 

Inheritance ; the  best  a father  can 
leave  to  his  son,  is  the  fame  of 
his  virtues,  60. 

Injuries  ; two  ways  of  doing  them, 
25 ; injuring  others  most  con- 
trary to  nature,  122. 

Injustice  of  two  sorts,  and  the 
causes  of  each,  15-17  ; the 
greatest,  which  is  done  under 
the  mask  of  honesty,  25. 

Innocent  persons,  never  to  be  ac- 
cused, 97. 

Interest  draws  one  way,  and  hon- 
esty another,  8;  no  base  thing 
can  be  any  man’s  interest,  146  ; 
should  be  measured  by  justice, 
150. 

Isocrates,  contrary  to  Aristotle,  2. 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  quoted,  34, 
35,  46,  58,  61,  206,  209,  219, 
232,  246,  249,  266,  269,  284, 
286,  296,  322,  369. 

Judges’  duty,  97. 

Justice,  the  most  splendid  virtue, 
13  ; makes  men  be  called  good, 
ib.,  91 ; the  duties  of  it,  13  ; is 
altered  upon  an  alteration  of 
the  circumstances,  18 ; to  bo 
kept  toward  those  that  have  in- 
jured us,  and  enemies,  21 ; to- 


336 


INDEX. 


ward  the  meanest,  such  as 
slaves,  25 ; is  the  only  way  of 
obtaining  our  ends,  80;  makes 
men  trust  us  more  than  pru- 
dence, 89  ; no  man  just  who  is 
afraid  of  death,  etc.,  91 ; justice 
gets  us  all  the  three  ingredients 
of  glory,  ih. ; is  necessary  for  all 
men,  even  pirates,  ib.;  kings 
were  at  first  chosen,  and  laws 
made  for  the  sake  of  it,  92 ; no 
credit  can  be  lasting  that  is  not 
built  upon  it,  106 ; is  the  queen 
of  all  virtues,  124  ; nothing  prof- 
itable that  is  contrary  to  it,  152, 
etc. 

Juvenal,  quoted,  210,  220,  279, 
311,  334. 

Kindnesses  should  be  done  to 
honest  rather  than  great  men, 
106 ; not  to  be  done  to  one,  by 
injuring  another,  ib. ; see  Bene- 
fits. 

Kings  formerly  chosen  for  their 
justice,  92  ; no  faith  in  case  of  a 
kingdom,  16 ; justice  violated  for 
a kingdom,  150;  many  treacher- 
ous, and  but  few  faithful  to 
kings,  ib. 

Knowledge,  how  desired,  etc.,  by 
men,  10,  12 ; must  give  place  to 
action,  74;  is  a barren  accom- 
plishment, without  justice,  75; 
that  of  honesty  best,  78,  80,  118. 

Knavery  to  be  avoided,  80 ; few 
actions  wholly  free  from  it,  139. 
See  Dolus  malus. 

Lacedemonians,  Plato’s  observ- 
ation of  them,  33 ; ruined  by 
Epaminondas,  43 ; forsaken  by 
their  allies,  86 ; murder  their 
king  Agis,  etc.,  110. 

Lmlius,  C.,  chief  speaker  in  the 
dialogue  on  Friendship,  172,  etc. 

Lmtorius’s  law,  138. 

Lamartine,  A.  de,  quoted,  298. 

Language ; see  Discourse. 

Ijargi,  of  two  sorts,  100. 

Latin  to  be  joined  with  Greek,  1. 

Laws,  a malicious  iuterpretation 


of  them  a means  of  roguery,  19 ; 
punish  offenders  according  to 
justice,  46;  why  first  invented, 
92 ; use  the  same  language  to 
all  conditions,  ib. ; the  knowl- 
edge of  them  creditable  at  Rome, 
104;  give  a man  opportunities 
of  obliging,  ib. ; the  end  and  dc- 

\ sign  of  them,  122;  how  they 
root  out  frauds,  142  ; the  law  of 
nations  different  from  that  of 
particular  cities,  ib. ; Roman  law 
taken  from  nature,  and  its  ex- 
cellence, ib. ; law  of  nature  taken 
in  all  men,  124;  law-suits  to  be 
avoided,  103. 

Learners,  how  best  corrected,  70. 

Learning,  who  may  be  allowed  to 
give  themselves  up  to  the  study 
of  it,  36 ; is  a pleasure,  not  a 
labor,  116. 

Letters,  how  to  be  expressed,  65. 

Leveling  estates  destructive,  etc., 
107. 

Liberality,  three  cautions  to  be  ob- 
served in  it,  25 ; must  be  govern- 
ed by  justice,  ib. ; to  give  to  one 
wdiat  is  taken  from  another  not 
liberality,  ib. ; to  whom  it  should 
be  most  shown,  26,  32,  104,  106, 
moves  the  people’s  love,  98 ; con- 
sists in  doing  kindnesses  either 
by  money  or  labor  ; the  latter 
preferable,  15  ; has  got  no  bot- 
tom, ib. ; how  the  liberal  dis- 
pose of  their  money,  16. 

Liberty  ought  to  be  most  of  all 
contended  for,  35;  wherein  it 
consists,  ib.;  bites  deeper  after 
it  has  been  chained,  85. 

Life  of  retirement,  and  that  of  pub- 
lic business  compared,  37  ; seve- 
ral men  take  several  ways  of 
life,  58  ; the  difficulty  of  choosing 
a way  of  life;  and  what  chiefly 
to  bo  regarded  in  it,  58,  59 ; 
should  not  easily  bo  changed, 
60 ; how  such  change  should  be 
made,  ib. 

Little  indecencies  especially  to  bo 
avoided,  70;  in  the  least  things 
we  observe  what  is  becoming,  ib. 


INDEX. 


337 


Locke,  John,  quoted,  14. 

Love  of  themselves  and  offspring 
in  all  animals,  10  ; love  a stronger 
motive  to  obedience  than  fear, 
85,  86  ; how  to  be  gained  of  the 
people,  89 ; by  what  we  are  to 
judge  of  men’s  love  to  us,  27; 
we  should  do  most  for  those  by 
whom  we  are  loved  most,  id.; 
general  love,  and  that  of  friend- 
ship, how  far  necessary,  86. 

Lucullus  magnificent  in  building, 
G8. 

Lycurgus  the  lawgiver  of  Sparta, 
39. 

Lying  abominable,  72,  137 ; should 
be  banished  from  all  commerce, 
138  ; is  inconsistent  with  the 
character  of  a good  man,  148. 

Lysander  enlarged  the  Spartan  em- 
pire, 38  ; crafty,  55;  the  Ephori 
banished,  110. 

Lysis,  master  of  Epaminondas,  75. 

Macedonians  desert  Demetrius, 
86 ; Paulus  took  the  treasure  of 
Macedon,  109. 

Mackintosh,  Sir  James,  quoted,  3, 
4,  7,  8,  29,  71. 

Macknish,  Dr.  288. 

Magistrates’  duties,  43,  44,  60, 108  ; 
responsible  for  the  acts  of  their 
subordinates,  309;  should  prac- 
tice rigor  and  impartiality,  313; 
and  discountenance  calumny, 
314. 

Mamercus  put  by  the  consulship, 

101. 

Man,  how  different  from  brutes,  9, 
53  ; not  born  for  himself  alone, 
14;  all  things  on  earth  made  for 
him,  say  the  Stoics,  id.  ; we 
should  show  a respect  for  all 
men,  50  ; and"  desire  to  be 
thought  well  of  by  them,  id. ; 
some  are  men  in  name  only,  53  ; 
men  may  be  allowed  some  orna- 
ments ; but  must  avoid  niceness, 
63  ; naturally  love  society,  74, 
75;  do  the  most  good  and  harm 
to  one  another,  80-82 ; to  pro- 
cure their  love  the  chief  of  virtue,  1 
15 


82;  by  what  means  they  are 
drawn  to  be  for  us,  84;  every 
man  should  help  any  other  be- 
cause he  is  a man,  124. 

Manilius,  176,  286. 

Manlius,  Luc.  and  Titus,  164,  165. 

Marius  made  consul,  etc.,  147 ; 
Marius  Gratidianus,  141,  147. 

Marriage  the  closest  bond  of  society, 
29. 

Medes  chose  the  justest  men  kings, 
92. 

Alelmoth,  'William,  quoted,  216, 
221,  225,  234,  250,  256,  291. 

Memmius  took  Corinth,  etc.,  109. 

Merchandise,  how  far  creditable, 
73. 

Merchant  of  corn’s  case,  134,  136. 

Merits  of  the  receiver  to  be  con- 
sidered in  giving ; of  four  sorts, 
25. 

Metellus  accused  by  Marius ; and 
Africanus’s  dissent,  45. 

Metrodorus’s  opinion  about  happi- 
ness, 166. 

Milo  got  great  honor,  101. 

Milton,  John,  quoted,  16,  106,  160, 
179. 

Mind  of  man  always  in  motion,  13  ; 
consists  in  reason  and  appetite, 
52,  64;  decency  to  be  kept  in  its 
motions,  63  ; filthiness  of  the 
mind  more  loathsome  than  of  the 
body,  160. 

Moderation,  what,  69 ; is  best  In 
most  things,  64. 

Modesty,  bashfulness,  etc.,  48 ; the 
duties  of  them  different  from 
those  of  justice,  50 ; forbids  to 
do  or  name  some  things,  63 ; the 
Cynics  argue  against  it,  id. ; 
nothing  virtuous  or  becoming 
without  it,  72;  sets  off  elo- 
quence, especially  in  young  men, 
95. 

Money;  see  Hire,  Riches,  etc.; 
those  tried  with  fire,  who  have 
withstood  its  temptations,  9i 
how  best  laid  out,  100,  102,  103  ; 
bad  money  should  not  bo  put 
away,  154. 

Montaigne,  quoted,  162. 


338 


INDEX. 


Moral  duties,  a most  useful  and 
comprehensive  subject,  2,  116; 
who  have  a right  to  discourse 
about  them,  2. 

Motion,  philosophy  of,  300,  etc. 

Motives  drawing  men  to  favor  us, 
etc.,  83. 

Musicians  discover  the  least  faults 
in  music,  70. 

Nasica  murdered  T.  Gracchus,  39. 

Nature  should  be  taken  for  a guide, 
and  then  we  can  not  err,  49, 
218;  pleasures,  etc.,  unworthy 
man’s  nature,  53 ; variety  of 
men’s  particular  natures,  54 ; 
every  one  should  follow  his  own 
nature,  and  how  far,  55  ; nothing 
becoming  that  is  contrary  to  it, 
ih. ; its  great  influence  on  our 
actions,  ih.;  has  greater  sway 
than  fortune,  GO ; directs  to 
modesty,  62  ; is  both  a human 
and  divine  law,  122 ; enjoins 
each  man  to  help  another,  124; 
always  desires  what  is  becom- 
ing, 128;  to  live  according  to 
nature  the  Stoical  chief  good, 
118. 

Nature,  the  best  guide,  179;  the 
mother  of  all  things,  267. 

Necessity  not  the  motive  to  society 
among  men,  75. 

Niceness  in  carriage,  62 ; dress, 
etc.,  63. 

Nola  and  Naples  quarrel  about 
their  bounds,  19. 

Non  putar am,  a fool’s  shift,  41. 

Numa  Pompilius,  266. 

Oaths  given  to  soldiers,  22 ; what 
is  to  be  considered  in  oaths,  24, 
161 ; I am  not  tied  by  oath  to  a 
deceiver,  159,  161 ; oath  is  a re- 
ligious affirmation,  etc.,  ih. ; the 
sacredness  of  them  among  the 
old  Romans,  164 ; not  eluded  by 
shifts,  24,  165. 

Obscene  jesting,  53  ; talking  dis- 
covers bad  inclinations,  eta,  63. 

Obscure  subjects  to  be  neglected, 
13. 


Offense ; a fear  of  giving  offense,  a 
cause  of  injustice,  16  ; a cause  of 
mismanagement  in  civil  and  mili- 
tary affairs,  43  ; it  is  the  duty  of 
modesty  not  to  give  offense,  51 , 
nothing  to  be  done  that  may  of- 
fend the  eyes  and  ears,  63. 

Old  age  to  be  reverenced,  60,  72; 
the  duties  of  it,  61 ; the,  of  Cicero 
beguiled  by  writing  a treatise  on 
that  subject,  217 ; tolerable  to 
men  of  regulated  minds,  219  ; of 
Quintus  Maximus,  221 ; of  Plato, 
Isocrates,  and  Gorgias,  222;  of 
Ennius,  223  ; four  causes  why  it 
is  thought  miserable,  223 ; ha? 
its  appropriate  • employments, 
224;  does  not  necessarily  im- 
pair memory,  225,  nor  intellect, 
226,  nor  studies,  227 ; doefS  not 
require  the  strength  of  youth, 
228,  232 ; mellows  the  voice, 
229 ; its  vigor  preserved  b}> 
temperance,  232 ; can  enjoy 
modern  conviviality,  237,  238; 
the  last  act  of  a play,  262. 

Opinion  of  the  world  concerning  us 
not  to  be  neglected,  50. 

Oratory  and  philosophy  to  be  join- 
ed, 1. 

Order  in  our  words  and  actions,  69 

Orestes  gives  a dinner  to  the  people, 
101. 

Op/ial,  82. 

Other  men’s  affairs  appear  small  t(T 
us  as  things  at  a distance,  17  ; 
we  should  mind  by  others  what 
is  becoming,  7 0 ; we  can  soonest 
see  faults  in  others,  ih. 

Ovid,  quoted,  50,  225,  265. 

Own:  every  one  to  be  kept  in  tho 
enjoyment  of  his  own,  109;  own 
interest  how  far  to  bo  regarded, 
122,  131.  • 

Tlud^T],  82. 

Pain  racks  and  torments  us,  90; 
not  the  greatest  evil,  160. 

Pains  should  bo  proportioned  to 
what  wo  are  about,  68. 

Painters  set  their  works  out  be 
viewed,  70. 


INDKX. 


339 


Paley,  Dr.,  quoted,  5.  lO,  24, 
32,  46,  71,  95,  97,  271 

Panoetius,  7 ; left  his  work  about 
duties  unfinished,  117,  127. 

Paradoxes,  why  so  called,  263. 

Parts;  men  have  several  parts  to 
be  acted,  54,  58 ; parts  of  the 
body  well  fitted  by  nature,  62. 

Pascal,  Blaise,  quoted,  12. 

Passion;  injuries  done  in  a passion 
less  heinous  than  in  cold  blood, 
16  ; should  be  governed  by  rea- 
son, 52,  64,  68,  82  ; disturb  both 
body  and  mind,  52  ; to  be  shun- 
ned in  discourse,  67 ; nothing 
can  be  like  that  is  done  in  a 
passion,  66. 

Pausanias,  Spartan  general,  38 

Paulus  had  all  the  riches  of  Mace- 
don,  109. 

paulus  JEmilius  appears  in  vision 
to  his  son  Scipio  Africanus  the 
younger,  291. 

Pericles’s  answer  to  Sophocles,  69  ; 
is  blamed  by  Palerius,  102. 

People  caressed,  etc.,  100. 

Peripatetics  differ  little  from  the 
Academics,  2,  121 ; have  a right 
to  treat  about  duties,  2 ; require 
a mediocrity,  and  say  anger  was 
given  us  to  good  purposes,  46 ; 
theirs  a most  noble  and  ancient 
philosophy,  7 9. 

Perjury,  when  a man  is  guilty  of 
it,  162. 

Phaeton,  156. 

Phalaris,  86,  125. 

Philip  of  Macedon,  above  his  son 
in  good-nature,  47  ; advises  his 
son  to  speak  kindly  to  the  people, 
95 ; rebukes  him  for  giving 
them  money,  99. 

Philip’s  harangues  in  his  tribune- 
ship,  107  ; his  ill  counsel,  151. 

Philosophers,  unjust  in  minding 
only  their  studies,  17  ; relinquish 
the  public,  ih. ; their  method  of 
rooting  out  frauds,  141  ; none 
may  assume  that  name  without 
giving  rules  about  duty,  2 ; their 
study  commended,  78;  philos- 
ophy a comfort  in  affliction,  7 7 ; 


a rich  and  plentiful  soil,  116 ; the 
meaning  of  the  word,  7 8. 

Phulus,'l76. 

Pirates  ought  to  have  no  faith  kept 
with  them,  162 ; can  not  bo 
without  justice,  91. 

Place,  its  influence  on  our  actions, 
69. 

Plato  might  have  made  an  excel- 
lent orator,  2;  his  saying,  that 
men  are  not  born  for  themselves 
only,  14 ; his  mistake  about  the 
philosophers,  17  ; his  two  rules 
about  government,  44- ; his  say- 
ing about  ambition,  ib. ; his  ex- 
cellent saying  about  prudence, 
33;  his  table  of  Gyges,  130; 
quoted,  11,  51;  his  arguments 
for  the  pre-existence  of  the 
human  soul,  256. 

Plays  and  recreations,  how  far  al- 
lowable, 53  ; play  at  even  and 
odd,  etc.,  147. 

Players  choose  the  parts  fittest  for 
them,  57  ; their  respect  to  mod- 
esty, 63. 

Pleasures  of  body  beneath  a man, 
54. 

Pleasures  are  alluring  mistresses, 
90 ; are  contrary  to  honesty, 
168  ; may  serve  to  give  a relish 
to  actions,  ib. ; should  not  be  re- 
garded in  eating,  etc.,  54;  con- 
sist in  virtue,  268. 

Plutarch,  quoted,  106. 

Poetical  decorum,  49;  poets  set 
their  works  out  to  be  viewed,  7 0. 

Polybius  the  historian,  165. 

Pompey  Sextus,  a geometrician, 
13. 

Pompey  the  Great ; his  party  un- 
successful, 94 ; his  magnificent 
shows  to  the  people,  101. 

Pomponius  the  tribune,  164. 

Pontius,  C.,  the  Samnite,  108. 

Pope  Alexander,  quoted,  230. 

Popilius,  a Roman  commander,  22. 

Popular  expressions  to  be  used,  90. 

Posterity,  impartiality  of  their  ver- 
dict, 323. 

Power ; the  desire  of  it  draws  men 
to  injustice,  149. 


340 


INDEX. 


Practice  necessary  to  perfect  a man 
in  virtue,  33. 

Precepts  insufficient  without  exer« 
cise,  ih. 

Present  things  more  acceptable  for 
a time,  102. 

Pride  in  prosperity  to  be  avoided, 
47. 

Private  men  should  be  kept  in  their 
estates,  38. 

Procreation ; the  love  of  it  natural 
to  all  animals,  9. 

Prodigal,  who,  100. 

Profit,  the  same  with  honesty,  80, 
121,  128,  134;  moves  all  men, 
128,  159,  the  appearance  of  it 
makes  men  act  contrary  to  duty, 
133;  ought  to  be  rejected,  ih.; 
every  thing  honest  profitable, 
and  every  thing  profitable  hon- 
est, 128. 

Promises  not  always  binding,  18, 
155,  156. 

Property,  its  original,  14. 

Prudence ; the  duties  resulting 
from,  12  ; consists  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  truth,  and  is  most  natu- 
ral to  man,  ih. ; of  but  little 
worth  without  justice,  74;  differ- 
ent from  craft,  33,  80,  143 ; a 
definition  of  it,  74;  makes  men 
confide  in  us,  if  joined,  etc.,  89. 

Public  officers  should  be  free  from 
passion,  etc.,  36,  45,  319;  should 
see  that  what  they  undertake 
be  honest,  44  ; remember  Plato’s 
two  rules,  ih. ; a description  of  a 
good  one,  44,  313 ; should  be 
courteous,  affable,  etc.,  ih.;  do 
the  bravest  actions,  47  ; should 
guard  their  eyes  as  well  as  hands, 
69,  307 ; not  to  be  resisted,  72; 
public  and  private  life  dbmpared, 
37. 

Pufiendorf,  quoted,  137. 

Punishment ; rules  to  be  observed 
about  them,  46. 

Pyrrho  can  give  no  rules  about 
duty,  6,  79. 

Pyrrhus,  his  speech  upon  giving 
up  the  prisoners,  23 ; a deserter 
offers  to  poison  him,  24,  151. 


Pythagoras,  31,  54 ; maxims  ofj 
234. 

Pythias,  a banker,  137. 

Baleigii,  Sir  Walter,  quoted, 
280. 

Bashness  in  giving  up  our  assent 
to  be  avoided,  12,  79  ; in  our  ac- 
tions, 52. 

Beason  ought  to  be  the  governing 
faculty  in  man,  52. 

Bebukes  in  friendship,  32.  Seo 
Chiding. 

Begularity ; see  Uniformity. 

Begulus  taken  by  the  Carthagini- 
ans, etc.,  158,  252,  etc. ; not 
really  unhappy,  269. 

Belations  should  be  considered  be- 
fore other  people,  25,  27. 

Bepublic ; Cicero  wrote  six  books 
about  it,  102. 

Bespect  should  be  had  for  all  men, 
51 ; especially  those  wo  converse 
with,  63,  61,  67. 

Betired  people  do  very  noble  things, 
47.  See  Life. 

Bevenge  must  be  kept  within 
bounds,  20. 

Bhetoricians  omit  some  subjects, 
64. 

Biches,  why  desired,  15 ; neither 
to  be  kept  too  close  nor  too  open, 
99  ; the  best  fruit  of  them,  100  ; 
are  too  much  respected,  107  ; to 
be  got  not  for  ourselves  alone, 
139;  are  not  profitable,  if  ac- 
companied with  infamy,  151  ; 
the  baggage  of  virtue,  265  ; of  no 
value  in  themselves,  286;  a com- 
parative term,  284.  See  Avarice, 
Liberality. 

Bomans  famous  for  courage,  33 ; 
their  ancient  justice  and  kind- 
ness to  allies  when  changed,  86 ; 
ruined  by  tyranny  and  oppres- 
sion, 87. 

Bomulus  did  wrong  in  killing  Be- 
mus,  131;  praised,  266;  the  sun 
eclipsed  at  his  death,  297. 

Boscius  Amerinus,  defended  by 
Cicero,  98. 

Bousscau,  J.  J.,  quoted,  122. 


INDEX. 


341 


Rule ; the  desire  of  it  natural  to 
men,  10 ; general  rule  or  meas- 
ure, 123. 

Rutilius  had  the  name  of  an  hon- 
est man,  etc.,  94;  scholar  of 
Pangetius,  117. 

Sal  AMIS  famous  for  a victory,  33. 

Saguntines,  not  parricides,  274. 

Salmacis,  33. 

Scaevola  gives  more  than  was  asked 
for  an  estate,  139 ; Pontifex 
Max.,  142,  169,  176. 

Scipio,  Africanus,  his  history  and 
glorious  end,  173,  174. 

Secrecy,  nothing  to  be  committed 
out  of  hopes  of  it,  129,  130. 

Self-love  prevents  men  from  seeing 
their  duty,  16 ; nature  allows  a 
man  to  love  himself  first,  131, 
122 ; but  not  to  injure  others  for 
the  sake  of  self,  122,  124. 

Seller,  bound  to  tell  the  faults  of 
his  goods,  134,  135,  etc. ; should 
use  no  arts  to  enhance  their 
price,  139. 

Seneca,  quoted,  50,  218,  251. 

Serious  things  to  be  handled  seri- 
ously, 65,  69. 

Shakespeare,  Wm.,  quoted,  210, 
279,  294,  309. 

Shows  to  the  people  how  far  al- 
lowable, 100,  102. 

Sincerity  agreeable  to  man’s  na- 
ture, 10. 

Singing  openly  a great  rudeness, 
69. 

Skeptics;  their  opinion,  79. 

Slaves,  how  to  be  dealt  with,  25, 
86  ; tricks  in  selling  them  pun- 
ished, 143 ; not  to  be  trusted 
with  public  concerns,  312. 

Smith,  Adam,  quoted,  21,  67,  136, 
192,  196. 

Society:  the  principles,  sorts,  and 
degrees  of  it,  28,  29;  nothing 
that  men  should  be  more  con- 
cerned for,  74;  man  by  nature 
sociable,  7 5 ; necessity  not  the 
motive  to  society,  ib, ; duties  of 
it  of  several  degrees,  in  what 
order  to  be  performed,  74;  uni- 


versal society,  of  what  nature, 
134. 

Socrates  facetious  and  droll,  54; 
of  extraordinary  virtues,  72  ; his 
shortest  cut  to  glory,  92;  used 
to  curse  those  that  separate  pro- 
fit and  honesty,  118 ; pronounc- 
ed by  the  oracle  the  wisest  of 
men,  172,  173,  255;  remark  of, 
244. 

Solon,  Athenian  lawgiver,  38;  his 
craft,  54. 

Sons  should  live  as  becomes  the 
name  of  their  ansestors,  39 ; do 
not  bathe  with  their  fathers,  63. 

74. 

Sophocles  the  tragedian,  69,  238. 

Soul’s  functions  more  noble  than 
the  body’s,  94  ; pre-existed,  256; 
an  emanation  of  the  divine  es- 
sence, 255  ; immortal  (see  Im- 
mortality), nothing  more  excel- 
lent and  divine,  268,  300 ; souls 
of  the  wicked  hover  round  the 
earth  for  ages  after  death,  303. 

South,  Dr.,  quoted,  61,  267,  268, 
270,  271,  280. 

Spectator,  the,  quoted,  220,  229, 
230,  241,  260. 

Speech.  See  Discourse. 

Spheres,  the  description  ofj  293 ; 
music  of,  294. 

State,  how  to  be  supported,  85,  87, 
152. 

Stewart,  Dugald,  quoted,  6,  174, 
206. 

Styles  of  eloquence  and  philosophy 
to  be  both  cultivated,  1. 

Stoics ; Cicero  follows  them  in  this 
book,  6 ; great  admirers  of  deri- 
vations, 15;  their  chief  good, 
etc.,  118;  aim  at  no  embellish- 
ment, 263. 

Strangers’  duties  in  a place,  62; 
a diflerence  to  be  made  between 
them,  72;  should  not  be  forbid 
a city,  133. 

Study  not  to  be  spent  upon  obscure 
and  difiScult  subjects,  13;  the 
end  of  it.  ib.  ; should  give  place 
to  action,  13,  74,  76. 

Suicide  forbidden,  250,  292. 


342 


INDEX. 


Subject  of  a discourse  must  be  first 
explained,  7 ; different  subjects 
require  different  ways  of  expres- 
sion, 90. 

Subjects  of  common  discourse,  65. 

Sulpitius,  an  astronomer,  13,  169  ; 
an  orator,  accuses  Norbanus,  95. 

Sumumjus^  suma  injuria^  19. 

Swearing  upon  one’s  conscience, 
146 ; my  tongue  swore,  but,  etc., 
163. 

Syla,  Lucius’s  inhuman  victory,  87. 

Sylla,  Pub.,  kinsman  to  the  former, 
ib. 

Taking  away  what  is  another’s,  a 
breach  of  justice,  14;  most  con- 
trary to  nature,  122, 124;  taking 
away  from  one  and  giving  to 
another  no  liberality,  25,  no 
good  man  will  take  from  another 
to  enrich  himself,  145. 

Talk;  see  Discourse. 

Tatler,  the,  quoted,  320. 

Taylor,  Isaac,  quoted,  295,  301. 

Taxes,  the  people  not  to  be  burden- 
ed with  them,  108 ; tax-gatherers 
hated,  72,  317. 

Ten  men  sent  by  Hannibal  to 
Rome,  etc.,  24,  165. 

Temperance,  12;  the  duties  of  it 
must  not  always  give  place  to 
those  of  justice,  7 6 ; nothing  prof- 
itable that  is  contrary  to  it,  167. 

Tenths  paid  to  the  gods,  101. 

Terence’s  Chremes,  17  ; Andria, 
207;  Eunuch,  209. 

Thebe,  wife  of  tyrant  Alexander,  86. 

Themistocles,  38  ; his  opinion  about 
marrying  a daughter,  106  ; his 
proposal  to  the  Athenians,  133 ; 
illustrations,  189 ; sayings  of, 
220. 

Theophrastus,  2;  his  book  about 
riches,  100;  praises  hospitality, 
104. 

Theseus’s  wish  granted  by  Nep- 
tune, 18,  156. 

Thieves  can  not  submit  without 
justice,  91. 

Thinking;  the  end  of  it,  13 ; a 
good  man  will  not  think  what 


he  is  ashamed  should  be  known, 
145. 

Thracians  branded,  86. 

Time  and  place  make  actions  good 
or  bad,  69. 

Trades,  which  creditable,  etc.,  72; 
tradesmen  should  avoid  lying, 
ih.;  be  just,  91. 

Treachery,  etc.,  contrary  to  reason, 
142. 

Truce  for  thirty  days,  19. 

Trust;  how  men  are  induced  to 
trust  us,  89 ; trust  not  always  to 
be  restored,  156. 

Truth,  the  love  of  it  natural  to 
man,  10, 55 ; two  faults  in  search 
of  it  to  be  avoided,  12. 

Tyrants  generally  come  to  a bad 
end,  86 ; to  kill  them  counted 
glorious  among  the  Romans,  120 ; 
are  enemies  of  human  society, 
125  ; lead  miserable  lives,  149. 

Ulysses  of  a temper  to  undergo 
any  thing,  57  ; would  have  avoid- 
ed the  war,  157. 

U nable ; those  who  are  unable  to 
exercise  some  virtues,  should 
take  the  more  care  to  get  others, 
60. 

Ungrateful  men  hated  by  all,  103. 

Uniformity,  of  life,  whence  it  arises, 
55,  69 ; is  most  becoming,  ih. 

Unjust ; those  who  spend  their 
lives  in  contemplation  are  so, 
17 ; and  those  who  mind  no- 
body’s business  but  their  own,  ih. 

Usurers  hated,  72;  Cato’s  opinion 
of  usury,  113. 

Yictuals;  pleasure  should  not  be 
regarded  in  it,  54. 

Yine,  cultivation  of,  241. 

Yiriathus,  the  Lusitanian  robber, 

11. 

Yirgil,  quoted,  11,  270,  290. 

Yirtue  alone,  or  at  least  chiefly 
desirable,  5,  12;  virtues  all  con- 
nected, 12,  89;  forces  us  to  lovo 
the  persons  that  possess  it,  31, 
89 ; its  principal  office  to  pro- 
cure the  lovo  of  men,  82  ; con- 


/ 


INDEX.  343 


sists  in  three  things,  ih. ; moves 
men’s  admiration,  89;  when  it 
appears  with  greatest  splendor, 
ib.;  scorns  affinity  with  pleas- 
ure, 167;  the  only  good,  264; 
conformable  to  reason,  273;  all 
virtues  equal,  ib.  See  Honesty. 

Voice  should  be  clear  and  har- 
monious, etc.,  65. 

Voluntary:  no  true  virtue,  that  is 
not  so,  17. 

Want  ; wo  should  be  most  liberal 
to  those  that  want  most,  etc.,  27, 
103. 

War;  laws  of  it  to  be  observed, 
21,  161  ; may  be  undertaken, 
but  it  must  be  for  the  sake  of 
peace,  21,  41 ; the  management 
of  it  less  glorious  than  civil  pru- 
dence, 38;  courage  in  it  recom- 
mends a young  man,  93. 

Ways,  two,  of  pleasure  and  virtue, 
69. 

Whewell,  *Dr.,  quoted,  218. 

Wicked ; to  be  so,  never  profitable, 
139;  wicked  men  slaves,  280. 

Will  forged  of  Minutius  Basilius, 
etc.,  144. 


: Wing  of  horse,  94. 

Wisdom,  which  the  chief,  74;  the 
definition  and  commendation  of 
it,  78;  to  be  often  with  wise 
men  recommends  a young  man, 
94;  a wise  man  not  wise  for 
himself,  good  for  nothing,  139. 

Work-shop  can  have  nothing  gen- 
teel in  it,  72. 

World;  we  should  endeavor  to  be 
well  thought  of  by  all  the  world, 
50. 

Xantippus  the  Lacedaemonian, 
158. 

Xenocrates  the  severest  philoso- 
pher, 55. 

Xenophon’s  (Economics,  translated 
by  Cicero,  113. 

Youno  men ; the  duties  of  them’ 
60  ; how  they  should  make 
themselves  taken  notice  of  in 
the  world,  93 ; are  not  envied, 
but  rather  encouraged,  ib. 

Zeno  holds  virtue  to  be  the  only 
good,  128. 


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